


Requiem for the Evil

by eliddell



Category: Breath of Fire IV
Genre: Action, Adventure, Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe, F/M, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-25 13:30:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eliddell/pseuds/eliddell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He permitted her to choose where her short life would end.  What if he had instead decided to save her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is another left-over from several years ago that was never really circulated. It splits off from the canon universe at the moment of Mami's death.
> 
> Because this is narrated in the first person by Fou-lu, the grammar and word choice are a bit non-standard for modern English, but I was trying not to do anything so unusual that it would confuse people—I was aiming for flavour, not authentic Jacobean prose. Also, while, unlike whoever translated the game, I _do_ know the difference between "thou" and "thee", I may have made the odd mistake, and the story has never been beta'd. Mea culpa. 
> 
> (I don't own _Breath of Fire IV_ , or any of its characters, settings, or world-building details—if I did, I would be a Japanese corporation, not a fanfic writer.)

She was telling me to go. 

She was human, and should have been worthless to me. And yet . . . 

"I will not leave thee," I said firmly, and reached out to grasp her upper arm and drag her toward the hole in the rear wall of her one-room cottage, through which she had bade me escape. 

"Ryong—" 

"If thou dost dispute my will, neither of us will escape," I said firmly. "Come!" 

At last she gave way and let me draw her toward safety—although 'twas very nearly too late, for even as she preceded me through the gap in the wall, the bit of wood she had used to bar the door snapped under the force of the soldiers' ministrations. I turned my hand palm out and threw fire at their faces, and they fell back for a moment, burned and blinded, but 'twas a near thing indeed. 

_A useful spell,_ I thought as I, too, crawled through the hole, _though I mislike that I cannot recall how or where I learned it._

Outside, a quick glance over my shoulder indicated that the fire I had cast had caught in the thatched roof of the hut. They could not follow us through there any time soon, then—a few precious seconds gained in which we might flee unseen. 

I took Mami's hand again. "Come," I bade her, and drew her toward the edge of her tiny garden plot. Her expression firmed, and she nodded. 

A woman of better class would, perhaps, not have been able to follow me in our mad flight across the fields, but Mami was of strong and sturdy peasant stock and matched me stride for stride . . . although I will grant that I did not attempt the greatest speed of which I am capable. 'Twould have been dangerous to do so after we reached the woods, in any case— even immortal dragon emperors are not immune to momentary loss of wits if they are fool enough to strike their heads against trees! 

She was scarce able to breathe by the time we reached our destination, however, and I took pity on her and let go her hand before I went to examine the entrance to the . . . shrine? I would not have called it such—I sensed only the faintest echo of the Endless here. My suspicions regarding the place were confirmed when the "god" presented himself and demanded a sacrifice. 

"I will give nothing unto such as thee," I told it aloud— brave words, but we had little time . . . "Mami, knowest thou of a way to open this?" 

She blinked at me for a moment, then shook her head. "No. No, I don't. I hoped that y'could . . . I mean, y'did somethin' to the volcano god, so I just thought . . ." 

I shrugged. "I could defeat it, aye, but 'twould take time we cannot spare, and summon the attention of that misbegotten general. There must be another way . . ." 

'Twas then that the boar came forth from the woods. Mami made a small, frightened sound in her throat, and I stepped protectively 'tween her and it before I recognized it as the creature that had absorbed the essence that I, wounded, had leaked so much of into the woods hereabouts. 

"What's it doin'?" Mami whispered as we witnessed the creature's first headlong charge against the stone doorway. I could but shake my head, for I knew no more than her. 'Twas only when the charge was repeated, and again, that I began to see. 

"Why . . . ?" The word fell from my lips without my willing it. "I do not understand. I did not summon thee, and indeed, I did thee no service in my unwitting transformation of thee. Why wouldst thou sacrifice thyself for me now?" 

Mami flinched, then looked up at me. "Ryong, y'canna let it do this!" 

"I . . ." I was about to explain that it was the privilege of They Who Passed to choose the manner of that passing, but the words died on my tongue . . . for had I not already interfered with _her_ chosen passage? "I will attempt to stop it, but I believe it may already be too late." 

Indeed, even as I stepped forward, the boar charged one last time, then crashed to its side and lay there with the front of its head obscured by blood. 

Mami dashed past me and knelt beside the creature, gathering that bleeding head into her lap. The boar rolled its eyes feebly and looked up at me as I came to stand beside her. 

I bent and placed my hand lightly on its muzzle. "I asked nothing of thee, and yet thou didst serve me in ways that I would never have asked, without any hope of reward. Go now in peace, thou good and faithful servant, into that place where I cannot follow." 

The boar sighed, and if it had been human, I think it would have been smiling as it eyes fell shut for the last time. Behind us, there was a grinding sound as the door to the shrine slid open, but something that lay unspoken between Mami and I kept us by the boar's side a moment longer. Then I remembered our circumstances and took her hand. 

"Come," I said gently, "let us not waste its death." 

Inside, I led her away from the door, until I thought that even if that poxy general in the service of my wretched successor had the nerve to sacrifice one of his own men that he might achieve entry to this place, we would have some warning of his coming. 

"We will rest here for a time," I announced, and seated myself on the floor, Mami gratefully taking a place beside me. 

"Thou didst say that we will emerge in a forest?" It was as much a way of making conversation as anything. For some reason, I was afraid of the silence just then. 

Mami nodded. "This comes out on the edge of the forest of Soma, or so my gran tol' me a long time ago. I've ne'er actually been here before." 

"Soma," I said meditatively. "Near the capital." And with that poxy general hunting me the whole way . . . I could protect myself from him and his summoned monsters well enough, but I was less certain that I could protect Mami . . . And then I bethought myself of something that startled a tired laugh from me. 

"Ryong? What . . . ?" Not quite daring to ask the question, but she was curious all the same, of that I was certain. 

"Long ago, someone told me that I had no head for strategy," I said, seeing, for a moment, the shade of a man centuries dead rise up in front of me. The young officer had been most apologetic when he had discovered who I was. "I never had any need of such. Perhaps that is why I did not see, until now, how much of a fool I have been, making my way so relentlessly to the capital to seek fulfillment of that ancient contract. 'Twould have been less obvious to set signal fires showing my location whenever I stopped for a rest! Their hunt succeeds so well because they know precisely where to search for me. And there is no need for me to speed so toward my final destination. Best, I think, to turn aside now for a time and confuse the trail, if such is possible." 

"Um. So we be not goin' t'the capital after all?" Mami had understood that much, at least. 

"Not immediately," I explained. "I would gain a measure of safety from our pursuers first. We will go . . . north, I think. They will not expect that. Come, we have rested long enough." 

We threaded the rest of the tunnels in silence, until we reached an unexpected obstacle: a crystal, man-high, set athwart the tunnel. Upon seeing it, Mami bit her lip, but said nothing as I moved forward to examine it. 

'Twas a most unusual object, bearing about it the aura of another of the Endless . . . I felt a strange tingle as I placed my hand on its surface. Knowledge came with the sensation. It had been a dragon, this, until it had grown too weary to continue and hidden itself here beneath the earth. It greeted me, in a sense, though it seemed to consider my presence to be but a dream, and . . . 

Mami cried out as the crystal broke apart and became a fountain of light, but I stood fast as that light poured into me, knowing that it meant me no harm. I could not hold it all, but absorbed as much as I was able, feeling some of that ancient dragon's power settle about me. Then 'twas gone, and the space where it had been was only an opening, half-concealed by leaf and vine. 

"Have no fear," I told Mami. "It did me no injury . . . but we will speak of this later. Come." 

We began the trek north along the marges of the forest. I could see that Mami was searching for something as we wended our way through the trees, and after an hour or so, she stopped and bade me wait a moment. I watched, bemused, while she dug and pulled at a cluster of small, leafy plants until she had drawn up a handful of stringy roots. 

"It's a dye," she explained. "Turns things brown. I thought . . . if the soldiers be still chasing us . . . Ya stand out a lot, especially that hair of yourn, and if we be tryin' t'hide . . ." 

I chuckled, which seemed to make her relax. "Indeed, fair maiden, thou art far wiser than I." 

She blushed. "I'll mix it when we stop for the night, then. Um . . . I guess we shouldn' waste any more time." 

I stiffened. "Silence—something comes." 

It was no rustling in the bushes that I had heard, but the scream of something tortured descending from on high. 

There was no time to command her to run. Instead, I swept her up in my arms and fled to the northeast, out of the forest. 

I cannot say that I was precisely in time to save us, for we were still caught in the fringes of the hex when it struck the ground among the trees, but we were near enough to the edge that I thought we might fight our way loose ere Mami could be harmed. It could have been much, much worse . . . _would_ have been, I realized, had I followed my intended course, for the hex had been aimed at the forest's center, where I would have been had I headed directly for Chedo. 

"Ryong, are y'goin' t'put me down?" 

I shook my head. "Best that I do not. The hex cannot touch me, but if thou wert to stray but a pace from my side . . ." 

"Hex? Is that what this—? Great Father o'the Empire!" She shuddered and hid her face against my chest. "I don' understan' why they want ya dead so badly. Y'ain't an evil person, I know y'ain't, but—" 

"If I knew why, then I would put a stop to it," I said as I strode through the darkness, ignoring the shadows that leered on either side of us. "But they have not seen fit to speak to me of their motivations." 

"I . . ." she began, then let the sentence trail off. "Well, I guess it'll make a good story t'tell my grandchilder, anyway—soldiers and hexes and handsome strangers . . ." 

"'Twill likely be safe enough for thee to return to the village in a month or two," I said thoughtfully. "By then the soldiers will remember little of thee, if anything, and . . . my affairs should be settled." One of the shapes in the hex-mist was looking a little too solid for my comfort, so I raised my hand and blasted it with the same fire spell as I had used on the soldiers at her cottage. It cowered back, and I relaxed slightly as I saw that the mist was thinning, up ahead. "If thou wishest, I can leave thee in . . . Kwanso, I believe 'twas called when last I passed that way." 

"That almost sounds like y'be tryin' t'get rid of me." 

"'Twould be safer for thee to distance thyself from me," I said as the wind whipped away one last wisp of hex-mist, leaving us standing in watery sunlight. "Thou hast seen the hazards that I face. Those who hunt me command the resources of the empire entire." I bent down slightly and repositioned my arm, letting her slide down to stand beside me. 

"Seems to me that y'said somethin' like that before," she said as we began to walk away from the edge of the hex. "I didn' agree with it then, either. If nothin' else, y'can use me fer camouflage." 

I chuckled. "Perhaps, if it doth not offend thy pride." 

"And there y'be showin' yer background. Peasants ain't allowed t'have pride, ya know." 

"Foolishness," I said. 

We camped that night beside a stream in a secluded dale, and dined on roast rabbit—I knew nothing of gathering edible plants, but at killing I have always excelled. And when we continued on our way the next morning, my hair, even to the brows and lashes, had been laboriously tinted dark brown, so that it was a stranger's face I saw whene'er I chanced to glance at a pool of still water. 

Two days later, we were approaching the highroad south of Kwanso when I heard the sounds of battle ahead. We might have turned back to the west and taken a path wide of the sounds, but after a whispered conference, we decided to investigate instead—with caution, naturally. 

It appeared that a group of the demi-human bolt-folk had engaged a squad of imperial troops at the edge of the road itself, and the troops were getting the worst of it—outnumbered three to one, with no magical munitions or skills, and faced with opponents whose hard skin and awkward size made it most difficult to land a blow. 

"Well enough," I muttered. "'Tis a better distraction than I could have hoped for. We can pass them by easily in this." 

" . . . Maybe y'be right," Mami whispered back, but she seemed unhappy. 

"What is it that concerns thee?" I asked. 

"Well . . . I wish we could help them. They be human, after all, and it's wrong just t'let people get killed by . . . things." 

I snorted . . . but softly. "They are soldiers, like those that came to Sonne hunting me. Wouldst thou be merciful to those who would have taken thy life?" 

But she was shaking her head. "They be _people_. All soldiers be. I really do have a cousin in the army, y'know, and he tol' me once that the soldiers ain't allowed t'decide _anything_ fer themsel's. The ones who came to the village had bad orders, but . . . _Please,_ Ryong." 

I sighed. "Very well. If 'twould please thee to have me rescue them, then rescue I shall. 'Twill be a most excellent test of my disguise, if nothing else. Wait here until I tell thee 'tis safe." And I stepped out of the brush, already shaping a spell in my mind. 

Although the bolt-folk of today seemed better organized than those I remembered, they were no more proof against magic than they had ever been, and the group closest to my point of emergence were easily frozen to death. Then I gathered my power to form a blade that their hard skins could not turn and attacked the remainder. 

'Twas not a difficult fight—one strike per opponent, if that. Where they were fool enough to cluster together, I could sometimes kill two with a single blow. It took less time than I had expected to turn the tide of the battle, for once I freed each soldier of his opponents, he turned to help his fellows—assistance which I had not expected. When the bolt-folk had been reduced to but a handful, I left the soldiers to finish the rest, and began to search the corpses of my own kills—'twas beneath my dignity to rob the dead, but I would need to pay for food and lodging in Kwanso before turning south again, and for some reason known best to themselves, the bolt-folk, although inimical to humans, still use Empire currency when they carry out transactions between themselves. 

The sound of someone clearing his throat nearby brought the keyword of a spell to my lips, but my sharp glance showed it to merely be one of the soldiers, an older man clad in the uniform of an officer . . . a general, yet. What was he doing here? 

"I am General Rhun," he introduced himself. "I'd like to thank you for rescuing me and my men, stranger. I didn't expect to run into so much trouble here in the heart of the Empire, and, well . . . most of the troops I brought were green." 

Odd, how the simple word "stranger" could do so much to put me at ease. Either my darkened hair truly did suffice to make me unrecognizable, or my description had not been so widely circulated as I had previously believed. Indeed, Yohm might not have given it to any but his own troops . . . after all, he could be no more certain than I of what effect my return would have on the fabric of the Empire. 

"Thou may'st call me Ryong," I said, straightening to my full height and pocketing my meagre take of zenny. "And thank me not. 'Twas my companion who beseeched me to enter the fight. Had I been alone, I would not have interfered." 

"Companion?" the general asked. 

Naturally, the answer was already emerging from the brush. "Don' mind Ryong—he be always like that. I be Mami, by the way. Oops!" Her heel came down in a pool of bolt-folk blood, and she slipped. Instinctively, I reached out to steady her, and we ended with her hanging from my arm and smiling embarrassedly. 

The general smiled back warmly as he watched. "No need to ask what you two are doing here alone—I won't even ask which of your families is the problem, or why." 

"Mine," Mami said firmly. "My father doesn' like Ryong—he doesn' like mercenaries much—so we figured we might head north and find a priest who didn' know us in Kwanso or . . . what was that other place ya mentioned?" she asked, turning to me. 

"Astana?" I suggested, bemused. 

"Yes, that was it—Astana." 

"We're travelling in the same direction, then," the general observed. "Master Ryong, if you're a mercenary, I don't suppose I might hire you to join my escort as far as Kwanso? I'll release you there, of course—wouldn't want to stand in the way of young love—but my men aren't in the best of shape, and we could use your help." 

I hesitated but a moment. "'Twould be my pleasure." Mami had already proved to be most excellent camouflage, as she had suggested—how much better would an entire troop of soldiers be? And did I befriend Rhun, he might be able to counter Yohm . . . 

Even though she had regained her balance long ago, Mami maintained her grip on my arm as we followed the general back toward his troops, drawing me into her little mummery of courting lovers. To my surprise, I found that I did not object, though when she had offered herself to me in the village I had gently refused her—she had lain beside me that night long, with her arms around me, but she had never lain _with_ me. 

"We're on our way up to Astana," the general explained to us as his men tended their wounded and sorted themselves back in order to continue down the road—by some miracle, none had been killed, though there were two who would have to be carried. 

"Thou hast business with the Carronade?" I asked. 

Rhun grunted an affirmative. "I'd like to know who in hell gave the order to fire the damned thing at our own territory— in peacetime, no less! What did they think they were doing?" 

I shook my head. "They must have thought there was some great danger that only the hex could protect them from—or I would hope that their reasoning was such. Only an evil man would sacrifice one of his fellows for anything less." 

The general gave me a narrow-eyed look. "You're well-informed. Not many people know how that damned gun really works. Who told you?" 

"A dead man," I replied with a shrug, which was true enough. _Six hundred years dead._

"Dead enough once that bastard Yuna caught up with him, I don't doubt," Rhun muttered. 

"Yuna?" Ask enough questions and _one_ of the answers must surely be something useful, I hoped. 

"So your informant didn't give you any names. Lord Yuna is the Minister of Extranatural Affairs—the man in charge of the operations and maintenance of things like the Carronade and the Causeway. He's a shifty-eyed little bastard who always looks out for his own interests first, for all that he claims to serve the Empire. Come to think of it, 'evil' is as good a description of him as any—I certainly wouldn't turn my back on him." 

_Yuna._ If the Carronade fell within his domain, then he was connected with Yohm in some way . . . "Perhaps we will accompany thee as far as Astana. As we were nearly caught in the fringes of that ill-considered hex, I find that I wish to have words with this Yuna." 

"I wouldn't, if I were you. Yuna has a lot of influence—you could find yourself ejected from the Empire." 

"Or myself forced to power the Carronade?" I laughed. "Let him try." 

"Ryong . . ." Mami tugged at my arm. "Please don'. Remember why we be here." 

"I am scarce likely to forget." But I touched her face gently with my free hand, playing once again at her little mummery of lovers. "We must first reach Kwanso. Nothing need be decided until then."


	2. Chapter 2

Kwanso was, I discovered, much changed by my six hundred years of absence—what had been a small village then was a fortified town now. Odd, though, that when one ignored the site, it seemed very much like the towns in those old days . . . The world had changed a great deal, but advanced very little, I judged. 

"Dusty," Mami said, sneezing. 

"'Tis less well-watered than Sonne," I agreed. "Perhaps, in time, 'twill become a wealthy enough place that they will pave the streets, and spare their visitors some of this." 

We stood together outside the building that held the garrison commander's office. Rhun was inside, and had promised me some form of pay once he met with the occupant. After I received it, 'twould be time to decide whether to continue on to Astana to find and question Lord Yuna, or turn about and make for Chedo as I had first intended . . . and in whose company I would travel, if anyone's. Mami had already indicated that she would not leave me of her own will, but I possessed the means to force her if I wished . . . and if I were willing to attract Rhun's attention by putting the lie to our little mummery. 

When Rhun emerged from the office, his face was pale and strained. Mami approached him immediately, dragging me along by the arm. 

"General, be somethin' wrong?" 

The old man forced a smile. "It's nothing, my dear— only that what I already feared has just been confirmed. Master Ryong, here is your pay." He held out a bag that made soft clinking sounds as it shifted in his hand. I accepted it, and pocketed it without bothering to tally what it held—Rhun was honest enough that even had I cared, I would not have suspected him of paying me less than my due. "If you still intend to continue on to Astana, I would be more than happy to have you travel with us, especially as the garrison here is unable to provide any replacements for my injured men." 

My eyebrows rose. "Odd—I had thought that there was more than a sufficiency of soldiers here." 

"Normally, there would be," the general said with a grimace, "but the entire area has been on high alert since some easterners broke through the Causeway about a month ago. They've doubled the number of guards on duty both here and at Astana, but not the number of personnel stationed at either place, and everyone's being run ragged. And I'm not going to make things worse by demanding that they augment my escort." 

"Easterners? You mean people from across the sea?" Mami asked. 

Rhun grunted an affirmative. "One of them was a Wyndian—a princess, no less!—perhaps the first to be seen in the Fou Empire for centuries. Although I had heard of another being here, briefly, before Yuna did something to make her disappear . . ." 

It seemed that everywhere I turned, some mention of this Yuna's name arose . . . "'Twould be within his capabilities to make such an unusual foreigner vanish?" 

"Let's just say that having the Emperor's ear makes it easy for him to hide his mistakes. Anyway, there's an inn a couple of blocks from here that you might want to check out. If you decide you'll continue on to Astana in our company, you'll find us here about an hour after sunrise tomorrow." 

"Very well. Mami, an' thou wouldst?" I made a show of gesturing in the direction of the only exit which the dead-end square in which we stood appeared to possess, although I could have dragged her along bodily, had I wished. In any case, she came along tamely enough. 

The inn . . . was smaller than I had expected, being more of a tavern with rooms upstairs, but it was clean enough, to my eye. Mami haggled for our room and board while I stood, silent and watchful, by her side, although when it came time to pay 'twas from my pocket that the zenny emerged. 

"We'll be serving the evening meal for the next two hours," the innkeeper concluded, with a slight bow. 

"We'll eat now . . . if that be all right with ya, Ryong." 

I shrugged. In truth, food is not a matter that much concerns immortals . . . 'tis more comfortable to eat at need, but not _necessary_. 

"Let me show you to the common room, then, Ma'am." 

Mami would have seated herself at the first open table had I not taken her by the hand and led her to one half-hidden in a back corner. 

"Best, under present circumstances, to have a wall at our backs," I explained when she gave me a questioning look. 

"I willna argue—I just wish we didn' have to be so careful." 

"'Tis not overcaution if one is truly being hunted," I pointed out, then fell silent as the innkeep approached with a plate of bread and stew balanced in either hand. 

'Twas savoury enough fare, coming as it did after days of unseasoned rabbit and military rations, and Mami fell to with good appetite. I ate more slowly, listening with half an ear to the conversations going on around us. 'Twas twaddle concerning the prices of wool and oil and grapes for the most part, but then a word caught my attention. 

"—dragon," one of the merchants at a nearby table said, and I began to listen more closely to him and his fellows. 

"I've got to admit, that's the damndest excuse for totalling a sandflier that I've ever heard," said a short, coarse- featured man sitting across from the first, and there was a general laugh. 

"No, seriously. Damned thing popped up at the edge of the desert not far from Sarai and flipped my flier upside- down! And then another, littler, one showed up and scared the wits out of me! I had to run for my life, and when I got back, half my goods had been stolen. Never did find out who did it." 

"Still, cross-border runs to the Empire are an awfully tricky way to go about recouping your losses . . ." 

I ignored them after that. So, my other half had appeared near Sarai, in the East, although he was doubtless far from there by now, and had stirred up the Sand Dragon. Still, 'twas a relief to know that I had not been mistaken in sensing his presence at large somewhere in the world . . . 

We finished our meal without any further incident of note taking place, and when I rose from the table and headed for the stairs, Mami followed me without complaint. 

Our room had but a single bed—more of the mummery of young love, which I must, of necessity, bear with a little longer—and I laid myself down on it and folded my arms behind my head. 

"Wouldst thou object if I were to choose to continue on to Astana?" I asked abruptly. 

Mami sat down on the edge of the bed. "Not at all . . . but I be surprised y'want t'go so far out o' yer way. I mean, isn' Chedo in the west?" 

I sighed. "It is becoming apparent to me that the heart of this matter may not lie where I thought it did. This Yuna . . . if he has the Emperor's ear, and is entangled in the affairs of those who hunt me, _he_ may be the source of all that has happened. If that is so, I dare not leave his stronghold—Astana— unbreached at my back. 'Tis too great a danger. And it disturbs me that I cannot apprehend his motives. The Emperor wishes to retain his power, Yohm wishes to serve his master, but Yuna wants . . . what?" 

"I don' know, but please stop lookin' so sad. It bothers me." She swung her legs up on the bed and curled up against my side. "Mmnm." She ran her fingers lightly through my hair. "We be goin' t' have t' touch this up in a few days' time, or the roots are goin' t' start t' show." 

"Thou know'st more of such matters than I." When I unfolded my arms, one seemed to settle itself automatically around her shoulders. "Sleep. We must depart early tomorrow." 

The road to Astana was dusty as well, but not so very long, and mercifully free of monsters willing to assault so large a group. My fighting skills were required only briefly, to dispatch a zaurus that had somehow wandered into the area of the campsite where we set up for the one night we had to spend on the road. As a result, I was perhaps somewhat too relaxed as we arrived at our destination, for what I suddenly sensed as we reached the outer wall of the town caused me to stop dead in the middle of the road. 

Another of the Endless! And yet . . . somehow weak and corrupt, or . . . No, 'twas two I was sensing—the weak residue of an aura very similar to my own, whose owner was no longer present here, and something else that was one of us, and yet . . . not. 

"Ryong, are ya all right?" Mami had come up beside without my noticing—a foolish lapse of vigilance on my part. 

I shook myself. "'Tis naught," I lied. "Shall we proceed?" 

We went little farther, however, before Rhun stopped us. "I'm going to call on the base's commander—Master Ryong, you'll have your pay after—" 

I held up my hand, and he fell silent. "General, I have asked nothing of thee ere now, but I would request that thou permit'st me entry to the fortress here." 

The old man gave me a shrewd, narrow-eyed look. "Still looking for Yuna, are you? I doubt he's here—there's a little ensign that they fly from the flagpole when he's in residence, and I don't see it." 

"Nevertheless . . ." I said. That aura of the not-quite- Endless was definitely coming from the base. 

The general sighed. "Well, you must have some reason . . . swear to me that it won't harm the Empire, and I'll give you access." 

" _I_ mean no harm to the Empire, but it is my belief that there may be those here that do," I said, which was true enough—any Endless was dangerous, and none of the others had any reason to share my affection for the nation I had created . . . the only child I would ever have. 

"A wizard's intuition, hmm? Oh, very well—come with me." 

"But a moment," I said, and turned toward Mami. "Go to the inn," I told her. "I will find thee there when my other business is concluded." I took my cache of zenny from my pocket, placed it in her hand, and folded her fingers around it. 

"Be careful," she said, and leaned up to brush her lips against my cheek—that mummery of lovers, again. 

"I shall." I had no intention of getting myself injured again here, so far from my goal. 

They had added a building enclosing the head of the tunnel that led to the Carronade's workings, but otherwise the fortifications were little changed from when I had ordered them constructed. A gesture from Rhun caused the guards at the tunnel to pass me without question, and I followed the general down and then up again to the building above the town, still pursuing that elusive aura of the not-quite-Endless. 

The office Rhun sought was not far from the entrance. He paused outside it to glance at me and say, "I may be a while. Don't get lost." _Or embarrass me,_ his eyes added with considerable eloquence. 

"Set thy mind at ease," I said, with a quick, wry smile. _If I must do something of which thou wouldst not approve, 'tis unlikely that thou wilt survive to experience the consequences._

In truth, the building was a maze whose pattern I only half-remembered, but that strange aura guided me through its bowels and into an area that had been no part of the original design. A room within a room . . . and the aura that so puzzled me was emanating from within the inner portion. 

Cautiously, I climbed the steps and opened the door. 

'Twas furnished as a bedchamber, and indeed, a slender figure lay in repose at the center of the room. The aura came from her . . . or perhaps from the mass of pulsing flesh that came from below the blankets to fill a basin beside the bed. The sight filled me with a revulsion such as I had never before felt. 

I strode across the room and flung back the blankets, but the one who lay on the bed never stirred. A young Wyndian woman, naked now that she was uncovered . . . and the pulsing mass grew from her hip. Or had been attached there—looking closely, I could see evidence of a surgeon's work. 

"What foulness is this?" I asked aloud. The air of the room seemed to damp the resonance of the words . . . but I knew that what lay before me on the bed was _wrong_ in a way that I had never before seen. Perhaps . . . were they attempting to _create_ a new Endless out of a mortal? Foolish . . . and dangerous. Well, then, I would end the experiment ere it could show results. 

I formed my will into a blade, and undid the work of that unknown surgeon with one swift stroke. The girl on the bed stiffened and whimpered, but did not wake even when the pulsing mass in the basin shuddered and grew still. I tore a strip from the bed linens to bandage her hip, for I did not know yet whether she was volunteer or victim, or what she might be able to tell me of what had happened here. Her aura, I noted, was thinning out and becoming mortal again now that she was separated from that . . . thing. 

I enwrapped her in the remainder of the torn linen sheet and lifted her into my arms. Time enough to question her when we were away from here. 

I threaded my way back through the maze and arrived at the commandant's office just as General Rhun was emerging. He stopped in the doorway to stare at my burden. 

"That's—What—Where did _she_ come from?" 

"I found her below, in most . . . inappropriate circumstances," I said evenly. "The First Emperor passed a law forbidding experimentation on prisoners, did he not?" And in truth, I had, after concluding that it caused the enemy to fight to the death rather than permit themselves to be taken captive. The purpose for which I had been called into this world was peace through unity, not slaughter. 

"So he did—and it's still on the books. Furthermore, we have a ceasefire with the East right now, and allowing one of their citizens to be tortured might just make them break it—it's as fragile as fine porcelain in a tavern to begin with. Who ordered this?" he added, twisting to ask the question over his shoulder. 

"Probably Lord Yuna," came the reply. "It certainly wasn't any order I gave." 

"I'm starting to believe that that damned noble fool must be responsible for every disaster we've had in the past twenty years, including the damage to the Causeway and the drought that caused that crop failure in the northwest three years ago," the general growled. "Lately, he seems to turn up under every rock I flip over. Are you _sure_ he never told you what he thought he was firing the Carronade at?" 

"Not a word, sir. Sorry." 

"Dost thou know who was sacrificed to enable the shot?" I asked. 

"Some random peasant they grabbed from a village south of here, or so I'm told," Rhun said, turning to face me once more. "Coincidentally, his name was also 'Ryong'." 

I shrugged. "'Tis not such an uncommon name in that part of the Empire." 

"So it isn't." But a frown remained on his features. "We'd best find that girl a bed—your arms must be about to fall off." 

"She is not so great a burden . . . and I would bear her back to the inn, if I may," I said. "I wish to question her when she wakes, and see if she knows what sort of experiment would create such a miasma of power that I could sense it ere I e'en entered the town." 

Rhun snorted. "Want to keep control of her, do you? Well, I can't say that I blame you. All right, take her to the inn. I'll be right behind you."


	3. Chapter 3

'Twas not until nightfall that the Wyndian woke, and during all that time, we three sat and watched her—though Mami spared at least as much attention for the tear she was mending in her dress, and Rhun, for a lengthy dispatch that had been passed to him by the commandant. I was the only one who had naught to do but watch. 

Still, I was not the first to react when the girl started upright with a little cry. 'Twas Mami who immediately moved toward her, seemingly on instinct. 

"It's all right, y'be safe. We be friends." 

The girl gave Rhun a wary glance, and her shoulders slumped. "Whatever you say," she said in a dull voice. Then she frowned, and touched her hip where I had bound it. "This is . . . who . . . ?" 

"If you're trying to figure out if you're still in custody, the answer is 'no'," Rhun said. "Whoever was holding you was violating our laws—experimenting on prisoners is illegal here. I'm just here to offer you an official apology, Miss . . . ?" 

"Elina." In a rustle of wings, those narrow shoulders once again squared themselves. "I am Elina, Princess of Wyndia, and I thank you all for rescuing me." 

Rhun's eyebrows rose. "Master Ryong, who is a mercenary in my employ—" He nodded in my direction. "—was the one responsible for your release, your Highness. All I did was order the guards to let him leave the building with you." 

"Then I thank you most sincerely, Master Ryong." The little princess somehow managed to sketch a curtsy to me, seated as she was, and I nodded back to her. "Being killed by that evil man would have been the worst possible ending for what I intended to be a mission of peace." 

"Was't Lord Yuna that was holding thee?" I asked. 

"I believe that was his name, yes. He didn't exactly bother to introduce himself to me." 

"And so his shade looms in front of me once again," I said, and received odd looks from Rhun and Elina. 

The general cleared his throat. "A mission of peace, you say, your Highness?" 

Elina nodded. "I came here to negotiate with your Emperor, and, if necessary, offer myself as a hostage if it would bring about a more lasting peace than these uneasy ceasefires of ours . . . but as you can see, I never reached Chedo." 

"'Twould have been a waste of thy time, in any case," I said. "The present Emperor is not an honourable man." 

"That is very close to treason, Master Ryong," Rhun growled. 

"Then the Empire has developed an odd standard for what constitutes 'treason'," I said. "Granted, I have been long apart from the world, but there was a time when loyalty to the Empire was considered a separate matter from loyalty to the one seated on the throne." 

Rhun frowned. "The Empire _is_ the Emperor." 

"The Empire," I corrected him sharply, "is a state formed on a set of principles laid down by the First Emperor. The other Emperors are naught but regents for their earliest predecessor . . . and the more I see of what this nation has become, the more I conclude that the present holder of that august office has failed that trust." 

"I take it that you believe in the legends about Fou Lu's return, then. Odd, I wouldn't have believed it of you—you give the impression of being of a much more practical frame of mind." 

I gave him a tired smile. "'Twould seem to me that the First Emperor's return is the Empire's best hope now. The war between the East and the West should have been won long ago, and the two reunited and at peace . . . Instead, the conflict seems to be unending." 

"'Reunited and at peace' . . ." Elina said softly. "It's odd—you're the first person I've ever heard describe the Empire's intentions in those terms. In the East, our history books describe your Emperor Fou Lu as a power-hungry monster who came out of nowhere to attack us. What makes you think that he ever wanted peace?" 

"An' thou wouldst fathom the motivations of a dragon, look to those of his summoners," I said, but the look of incomprehension on all their faces suddenly made me very weary. "Forgive me. I lack the stomach for this discussion at present." 

The room was silent as I opened the door to the hallway and stepped through. 

Outside, I leaned myself against the wall and sighed. _Surrounded by so many mortals, tangled in their affairs . . . when did I so lose sight of my path?_

"Your friend is a very strange man." The words filtered through to me faintly from the other side of the door. 

"He puzzles me, too," Rhun admitted. "He knows so many peculiar things, and that accent of his . . . my own great- grandmother used to slip and use 'thou' occasionally, but I don't think it was common even when she was a little girl, and some of the forms Ryong uses are even older than that. Mami, has he ever told you where he's from?" 

"He doesn' talk about himself much," Mami said. "But then, we've only known each other a couple of months." 

"If I were the sort to believe in legends . . ." Rhun began, then stopped. 

"Go on," Elina urged. 

I could almost see the smile twisting the corner of the old general's mouth. "All right, but don't take it any more seriously than I do . . . They say that Fou Lu didn't go to his tomb alone, that he took some sort of servant with him, one that shared his immortality, although no one seems to be quite sure whether it was a man or some kind of talking animal. But if it was a man . . . he might be rather like Ryong. Can't you just see him fighting to pave the way for his master's return?" 

I heard a sound that might have been an indrawn breath. "Maybe that's why he wants t' go t'Chedo." 

"Chedo? And yet you were nearer to the capital when I met you than you are now . . . Well, it's really none of my business, in the end. Princess Elina, where do you intend to go from here?" 

"Home to Wyndia, I think, at least for a while. I never meant to be gone so long without any word—my family must be frantic, and Cray . . . Well." 

"It may be a long passage," Rhun warned her. "The Causeway was damaged recently, and it no longer functions. You'll have to go by sea, if you can find a ship that'll take you and if you can get to Lyp to catch it. That'll mean renting a mudskimmer and working your way up the islands." 

Elina sighed. "Well, if that's the way it has to be . . . Mami, you've been travelling with Ryong, haven't you? Do you think there's any way I could persuade him to escort me back to Wyndia? I don't know where else in the Empire I can find anyone I can trust not to be working for that man Yuna." 

"I don' know. He's been awfully set on gettin' t'Chedo." 

"Do you know what his business there is?" Elina asked. 

"He's never tol' me." 

"Probably something to do with money," Rhun said, "although I must admit that I've never before met a mercenary as careless about his zenny as our Master Ryong. Then again, I've never met one who lectures people on the nature of treason and the finer points of Imperial law before, either." The snort of laughter had to be Rhun's, too. "I suppose it can't hurt to ask him to go with you. The worst he can do is turn you down." 

"Would y'like me t' go find him?" Mami asked. 

"If you wouldn't mind." 

I stepped away from the door and repositioned myself against the wall on the other side of the hall, to make it less obvious that I had been eavesdropping— _Why do I continue to care what they think of me, these mortals?_ —and managed to resume a relaxed posture only just in time. 

I had expected Mami to invite me back in immediately, but instead she closed the door gently behind her and came over to stand beside me. 

"Y'were listenin', weren't ya?" she asked softly. 

"'Twas not my intent, but aye—the walls here are too thin to permit me to do otherwise," I said. 

She traced a pattern on the floorboards with the toe of her sandal, then said, "Ya know I'll follow ya wherever y'go— Chedo, or the East." 

Something shifted painfully inside me. "Thou know'st I cannot return thy feelings for me." Somehow, it was a difficult thing to say gently. 

She smiled, but her eyes were wide and serious. "I didn' really ever expect that. Y'be . . . I be still not quite sure what y'be, but I knew from when I first saw ya that y'weren' really meant fer the likes of me. Even lyin' half-dead on the ground under the trees, y'had somethin' inside ya that shone . . . I knew y'were part of somethin' bigger than I'd ever seen before, e'en then. And then, when I got t'know ya . . . so strong and so proud, but so alone . . . I just wanted t'help somehow, t'try t' heal that hole in yer heart that y'won' e'en admit is there . . . but that's more than someone like me will ever be able to do, isn' it?" 

"'Tis not thy fault," I kept my voice gentle, though 'twas not a manner of speech to which I was accustomed. "I have not been whole since I was brought into this world, and until I find that missing part of myself, I will always be . . . lacking, in some way. But . . . thy presence eases me in some manner, although I could not tell thee why." Which was, I realized, true. She was no substitute for my missing other half, but Mami somehow soothed the emptiness a little. 

"That's more than I e'er would've expected. Um . . . They likely be waiting fer us, back in the room . . ." 

A small, warm hand brushed against mine, and, acting on instinct, I grasped it . . . gently, again . . . and Mami flashed me a smile before drawing me forward. 

"Master Ryong," Elina greeted me once we were inside with the door shut again. "Has Mami told you what I want?" 

"To draw me out of my way, or so I understand," I replied dryly, releasing Mami's hand. 

"You would be amply rewarded once we got to Wyndia—I _am_ a princess, after all." 

"Wyndia has naught that I require . . . save, perhaps, the kingdom itself, and that is not within thy power to give." 

"You're a hard man to please," said the little princess. "Isn't there _anything_ that you want?" 

I gave her a weary smile. "Only to conclude my business in Chedo, and to find . . ." And there I stopped, for certain things were, of a sudden, slotting themselves together in my head like the pieces of a puzzle. _If my other self came to earth near Sarai, and yet has been here in Astana as well . . ._ "Was't thee who forced a path through the Causeway a month agone?" 

She frowned. "I . . . no. I'm not sure exactly how long I've been here, but I'm sure it's been longer than that, and anyway, I don't think what we did could be described as 'forcing' . . ." 

"Dost thou have a sister, then?" 

"Nina—she's younger than I am." I could see from the expression on her face that she was trying to determine where my questions were leading. 

"Then perhaps Wyndia does have something—or, rather, some _one_ —that I want, after all." I had intended to go to Chedo and wait at the place where I had been summoned to this world for him to come to me, but there was a certain attraction to the thought of seeking him out, as well. Perhaps when I was whole, I would also be less confused . . . 

"You—my sister—that's—We don't practice slavery, you know!" The princess was so indignant that she was spluttering. It startled a laugh out of me. 

"Put thy mind at ease, little princess. 'Tis not thy sister that I seek, but a man that I believe may be known to her . . . and I wish but to speak to him, not to do him harm." 

"Then if I agree to ask my sister about this man, you'll come?" 

Now that she had asked the question, I was less certain . . . or was I? I had, I realized, only my own arrogance to assure me that Elina was the first mortal this fool Yuna had tried to make into one of the Endless, and while I had no doubt that I was strong enough to vanquish any corrupt creation of his without assistance, the danger to everything around me might be less if I were whole . . . Had anyone asked me, I would have said that I cared little whether or not any given mortal lived or died, but the thought of killing hundreds of them for no reason . . . 'twas like a millstone around my neck, although I also knew that, if there were a purpose to the slaughter, I would not hesitate to swing my sword until I must wade up to the knees in their blood. 

"'Tis all a matter of motivations," I realized. "Doing a thing for a purpose . . ." I sighed, and added, "Mind me not," when it registered on me that I had spoken those words aloud. 'Twas all purest rationalization, in any case—now that I knew where my other half was, I longed for him, and my completion, and the end of all this mad, weary striving . . . "Aye, Princess, I will go with thee." 

"That's settled, then," Rhun said, heaving himself to his feet. "Master Ryong, I hope that you can wait until morning for the pay that I still owe you—all of this made me completely forget about the matter, and there's something else that I'd like to give you as well, that I won't have ready before then." 

I shrugged. "As thou wishest." 

'Twas a long night. Elina and Mami shared the bed while I stood, wakeful, by the window, staring out into the darkness. 

What was he like, my missing other half? 'Twould have been so easy to assume that he _was_ me in all but location—easy and wrong. I had come to this world six hundred years agone, in the heart of a dying empire, and told my nature and my purpose before I was e'en steady enough on my feet to walk across a room. The other me would have had no one to tell him those things. He might not even be aware that he was other than human. He was . . . 

. . . free? 

_Do I envy him, then?_ I wondered as I watched the stars fade into the grey light that comes before dawn. Free. Bound by naught save his own desires . . . 

I laughed, shoulders heaving—but silently, so as not to wake those who lay on the bed. _And to whom am I seeking to tell these falsehoods now?_ Even unknowing, that other could not be so free, for when all was said and done he was still a dragon, shaped in part by the will of those around him. We were built around the same core, he and I, but we would not be the same. He had never borne an empire on his shoulders, any more than I had ever breached the Causeway in the company of a Wyndian princess! 

Indeed, he might be very different. Perhaps even . . . too different. Odd how that had not occurred to me, ere now. Would we be, after our uneven development, able to merge back into a single seamless entity, or would our temporary separation leave scars behind to blot our united self? 

_'Twill be easier to choose after I have met him and taken his measure._ And there was a choice: to accept our fate, or remain forever incomplete, empty . . . Silent laughter gripped me again. _Ah, I am such a fool . . ._

Somewhere out in the world, that other was staring up at the same sky, and perhaps even asking himself the same questions, if he knew what that hollow place inside him meant. And I was certain of one thing about meeting him: 'twould be a most peculiar experience for us both. 

The knock on the door came not long after dawn. 

"What—" Mami murmured, her eyes blinking open. 

"No need to bestir thyself," I said softly. 

"No, I be curious about who'd want t'see us this early." Having slept, perforce, in the only clothes she presently owned, she had but to thrust her feet into her sandals to make herself presentable before going to the door. 

"General Rhun!" She was able to mute that exclamation of surprise to keep from waking Elina, however. 

"I apologize for disturbing you, but—" 

"Maybe we'd better talk outside," Mami whispered, glancing at the bed. I followed silently in her wake as she slipped through the door. 

"There was a time when general officers had minions to run errands at such ungodly hours," I observed once the door was closed behind us. 

The old man shrugged. "I don't entirely trust the garrison soldiers, and I don't want to wake one of my own—they'll have to get up in another hour or so anyway if we're going to make the Causeway by tonight." He held out a bag that clinked faintly as he moved it. "Here is your pay, as I promised . . . although I suspect that it means very little to you." All the same, I accepted and pocketed it. "And the other thing I spoke of . . ." He slipped his hand into his pocket again, then hesitated. "I just hope I'm doing the right thing by giving you this . . . You are the most inscrutable man I have ever met, and I have only my intuition to tell me that you won't misuse it." 

For an instant, I saw naught but a bit of metal, lying there in his hand, and I frowned. Then I realized what it was: a bit of metal indeed, but one with a specific function. 

"E'en do I choose to accept this, will thine army not know me for an impostor?" I asked, half-amused. 

Rhun sighed. "It would be easier if I could just give Princess Elina some kind of diplomatic pass, I admit, but I don't have that kind of authority. I _do_ , on the other hand, have the authority to commission any random person I want as an army officer. This—" He bounced the bit of metal in the palm of his hand. "—will give you some authority of your own, here in the Empire, and I've spent most of the night filling out the appropriate documentation to make it legitimate—so you won't be found out as an impostor, Colonel Ryong, because you won't be one." 

"'Twould constrain my actions," I said, a suggestion and a probe. 

"I think we both know just how likely it is that you'd actually _follow_ any order you were given, unless it involved something you wanted to do in the first place," the old man replied with a snort. "This is just a convenient—but legitimate—fiction. Damn you, man, take it!" 

I chuckled wearily. "An' thou dost proffer such a magnanimous invitation, how can I refuse thee?" I held out my hand, and Rhun tipped the colonel's badge into it. 

"Mind you," the general added, "if you don't look after Mami and the princess, I'll find some way to take it out of your hide, even if it means having to use the Carronade on you." 

"I have no doubt that thou wouldst try," I said. 

The old man shook his head. "I do envy that confidence of yours. For what it's worth, you should be able to commandeer a mudskimmer from the base near the En Jhou ruins. Take care . . . and you as well, Mami." 

I found myself staring at Rhun's back and weighing the badge in my hand, wondering if I envied _him_ his ability to trust, and if I would have dared place such a man in charge of an army, in the old days when it had been my decision to make. Then I shook the thought out of my head and turned back to the room. 

We had preparations to make, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

En Jhou . . . I remembered it as a thriving town, but there was naught there now except the half-crumbled pyramid whose intended use had been long forgotten even six centuries ago. I would have passed it by and gone on to the base, save that as I approached the area, I sensed the aura of a fellow Endless . . . nay, _two_ of them, but the second was so like my own that 'twas difficult to distinguish. 

_Here . . . he is here._

'Twas such a piece of irony that I laughed aloud. The two of us charging toward each other like mad boars . . . It beggared belief that we should have found each other so soon, and yet here we were. 

Truth be told, 'twas tempting to charge headlong just a little farther, but I had decided by then that I wished to observe him before we became one . . . and so I bowed my head in concentration, ignoring Mami's and Elina's stares, and . . . drew myself inward, confining and muting my power until, I hoped, I seemed like naught but another mortal, albeit perhaps one who had lived too long in close proximity to one of the Endless. 'Twas a thing that I had been practicing since my second confrontation with Yohm, and it seemed to work well enough. 

"I would investigate the ruins," I told them. 

Both of them blinked, but Elina was the one who spoke, "All right, but . . . why?" 

I shrugged. "I sense something which may be of importance . . . but ye may remain here, an' ye do wish. I shall not be long." 

"Not likely," the princess replied, which was what I was beginning to expect of her. Although not a fighter, she was a skilled healer-mage and had proven a useful support in battle during the sixday we had been travelling together. She was strong, and had no fear despite her difficult recent experiences— in the old days, I might have made a provincial governor of her, and never regretted the choice. 

"And I be not stayin' here alone," Mami added firmly. 

At least they had the wit to stay behind me as we entered the monster-infested building. I remembered it as being mostly a solid block of stone, containing a few twisty corridors and two rooms long since plundered of anything but yet more rock . . . an odd place, serving no apparent purpose except that the interior was cool in summer. 

The first room that we glanced into contained naught but a man who glanced back at us and grumbled irritably about invasions of women with wings, which made Elina flash him a quick look of surprise. 

"There's another Wyndian here?" 

"If that's what you call yourselves. Came in with an entire cavalcade of people—an Impie officer and someone in a sawed-off suit of armour and some others. Guess they must all still be in that room upstairs." 

"Well, then, let's go! I could use some news from home." Elina turned back toward the corridor, but then paused in the doorway. "I don't know how you knew, but . . . thank you, Sir Ryong." 

"Thank me not until we have found them and taken their measure," I said. 

To my surprise, the room upstairs was empty, too, but there were footprints in the dust on the floor, and they led directly into the opening someone had recently knocked in one of the walls. Beyond it was a great deal more space than I had believed to exist inside the pyramid, filled with staircases and footprints leading to and fro through a much thicker layer of dust, not to mention the roots of some sort of very large plant. I was required to kill a number of unusually vicious monsters as we explored the place—small wonder, though, that the creatures attacked anything that remotely resembled food, if they had spent centuries walled up in here with nothing to eat but tough roots and each other! 

At last, after we had climbed awkwardly down a pyramid-inside-the-pyramid, we heard something as we approached the entrance to a passageway. 

"Another one of those crystals? Looks like this one's cracked, though . . . Ryu, what do you want to do?" 

Elina started. "Cray? Cray, is that you?" 

"Wha—Elina?!" 

People poured out of the corridor entrance—six of them. I stepped protectively in front of the women and quickly evaluated each. A Wyndian woman, a Worent who carried a heavy club, a tall canine of uncertain tribal background who bore a sword, a woman wearing the uniform and insignia of an Imperial Army Captain, a very short . . . creature . . . clad in all- enveloping armour, and . . . 

_How can he look so very young?_ was my first, incredulous, thought. Had it not been for the aura he bore, I would have classed him as naught but a youth, sturdy enough but lacking his full growth as yet . . . I had never been so young, not even six hundred years ago. Puzzlingly, we did not even look especially alike—brothers, mayhap, but not the twins that I would have expected. And yet, he was . . . I _knew_ he was . . . and 'twas clear that he also sensed something about me, for he had taken a step backward and lowered his hand to his sword. 

Meanwhile, Elina had rushed past me to embrace the other Wyndian. "Nina, it's so good to see you again!" 

"I knew you were alive," the younger girl said, wings drooping slightly in what I interpreted as relief. "No one else except Cray believed . . . but I knew that, somewhere . . ." She was weeping and laughing both. 

"Cray . . ." Elina said softly, looking over her sister's shoulder at the Worent, who cleared his throat. 

"We'll talk later," he said. "We should do little things like introductions first." 

"Oh, yes. Sorry." The elder princess released her sister, but not before giving her one last quick squeeze. "I am Elina, Nina's sister," she said, bowing to the younger princess's assembled companions. "This is Sir Ryong, who rescued me from captivity in Astana, and his . . . friend, Mami." 

"Fiancee," Mami corrected gently. 

"Deis says, 'They have all been very close to one of the Endless,'" the armoured being abruptly announced. "'Especially the man—his life stream is stronger than I have ever seen in a mortal before.'" 

Mami looked confused. I frowned. So my inner disguise was not as effective as I had hoped . . . but it seemed, nevertheless, to function well enough for misdirection. However, I suspected that the words "Deis says" were to become my bane in the near future . . . and in that, I was not entirely wrong. 

"Um." Nina said. "Sorry about that—Ershin's a little tactless, and Deis is worse. Anyway . . . I'm Nina. This is Cray, the chief of the Worent tribe, and Scias and Ursula and Ryu and Ershin and, um, well, I'm not really sure how to explain Deis. I guess the short version is that she lives inside Ershin because she doesn't have a body of her own. The summoning that brought her here was kind of messed up, and . . . oh, drat . . ." 

"Deis" was the other Endless I had sensed, then. _Bodiless . . . Apparently, worse fates are possible for us than the one I suffered._

"Whoa," Elina said with a laugh. "Slow down. It sounds like we've got a lot to talk about, but this probably isn't the best place to do it. Let's go outside, and sit down somewhere that isn't crawling with monsters, and swap stories." 

"In a bit," Cray said. "There's something Ryu has to do first . . . if you still want to, that is." 

My other half hesitated, then nodded decisively. "This shouldn't take long," he said, and his voice was no more like mine than his face. 

He turned back toward the tunnel, and everyone crowded forward to follow—everyone save Scias, the excessively tall canine, who appeared to have been designated by Nina's party as their rear guard. I examined him covertly as I followed the others into the mouth of the tunnel. 'Twas a light sword that he bore—he relied as much on swiftness of attack to defeat his enemies as on skill or strength, then, much as I did. Something to remember, did I need to fight him. 

A crystal blocked the far end of the tunnel, and my eyebrows rose in surprise as I sensed the muted essence of another of the Endless, sessile and weakened by time. _'Tis like the crystal that I took into myself when we discovered it in the shrine of that false god . . ._ and my other half was reaching out to it, clearly intending to do as I had done there. 

Though the fountain of light came no nearer me than the far end of the tunnel, when it touched young Ryu, I felt a distinct shock as some of what he could not hold was transferred to me, instead. I wondered if he was aware of it. 

"Well, that's done," he said. "Let's go." 

I noted as we ascended the interior of the pyramid that Mami was covertly watching my younger self, glancing at him whenever she thought herself unobserved. Clearly, she had guessed that he and I were of a kind, and soon she would be unable to continue her pretense that she believed me to be but a man, albeit a strange one. And then . . . then the barrier that had always lain 'tween myself and the mortals would rise 'tween her and I as well, and I . . . would be alone again. 

It surprised me that the prospect filled me with such foreboding—had I not been alone my life long? And would it not stop wrenching at me when I became whole at last? 

We set up camp together outside the ruins, and the two princesses sat down beside one another so that each might tell her story. I noted with interest the positions that the others took up, Cray clinging close to Elina's side so that she all but sat in his lap, Ryu not quite so close to Nina, but just as clearly attached . . . _Does he have feelings for her, then?_ Scias and Ursula, the Imperial captain, had fanned out on the ground a short distance away, and Ershin . . . Ershin planted itself near where I had seated myself on a rock, with Mami at my feet, leaning against my legs. It was watching me, or perhaps Deis was. _Very well._

"I guess I should start, since my part must have started first," Elina said. "Some of you probably know that I was engaged to marry the Prince of Ludia, for political reasons. Well, he and I had . . . a serious falling out . . . when I found out he'd been sleeping with a kitchen maid, and he . . . found out I was in love with someone else." She glanced at Cray, who was staring downward at his lap. "Anyway, I came up with this crazy plan to try to cement peace between the Alliance and the Empire by . . . well, it doesn't matter now. It was a stupid idea, but just then anything seemed better than having to marry that idiot. I managed to sneak through the Causeway, or at least that's what I thought, but it turned out that it was all a setup. Imperial troops surrounded us the moment we were clear of the gate on this side. My escort tried to protect me, but . . ." Her shoulders sagged again. "Anyway, I ended up as the prisoner of the Imperial noble who was leading the troops—Lord Yuna—and he . . . ugh . . . I still don't entirely understand what he wanted. Something to do with the hexes." 

"He must have intended to use thee to fuel the Carronade," I said . . . although why, then, had he attempted to make her one of the Endless? Or had Yuna hoped that the life force of a dragon would be sufficient to fuel more than one hex, that he might blanket all the East in dark cloud? The thought of such waste was enough to make me feel vaguely ill. "The resulting hex is always more powerful when the fuel for it has some emotional connection to the target." 

Elina and Nina gave me identical sick looks, but 'twas Elina who said, "So every one of those hex-blighted spots in the East was created by torturing, then killing, a prisoner?" 

I shrugged. "'Tis the nature of the spell. Ye must understand, the Carronade is very old, older than the present Empire. I think that it has come to be too much used of late— during the reign of the First Emperor, 'twas silent altogether, though the old Empire had made much use of it during its death throes." Indeed, I had never liked the hex spell much—'twas too indiscriminate a destroyer—and thus had never been willing to order its use. 

There was a brief silence, then Elina said, "Anyway, I'm not sure how much of what he was doing to me was done for the sake of all the stuff he was babbling about eternal life and how much was just meant to . . . hurt me—in fact, there are a lot of holes in my memory of the past month or so. I don't even actually remember Sir Ryong rescuing me, just waking up in a bed in the inn at Astana afterwards, with Ryong and Mami there, and General Rhun apologizing for what happened." 

I noted, out of the corner of my eye, that the young officer Ursula had stirred when Rhun's name had been spoken, although I knew not why it would have such an effect on her. 

Elina forced a smile. "Anyway, that's my story, such as it is—your turn now, Nina." 

"Um, well. I guess I should start it when Cray showed up in Wyndia looking for you, and found me doing the same thing. We found out that you'd been heading for the desert when you left, so we kind of borrowed a sandflier without asking . . . We were near the south edge of the desert when we ran into the dragon, and . . ." 

'Twas a long and tangled tale that the younger princess told, of a difficult search, and a youth who knew naught of himself but his name, and how they discovered what he was. Mami stirred and seemed about to speak when the narrative reached the village of Chek and the tale of the Yorae Dragon that the people there had told them, but instead she reached up, silently, to grasp my hand. 

" . . . And so now we're—slowly and carefully—trying to find Fou Lu," Nina concluded. 

"I still don't believe that he's still alive," Ursula threw in. "These stories about him being an immortal dragon-god . . ." She shook her head. "Farmer legends, nothing more." 

"You don't have to stick around, you know," Cray said. At some point during Nina's narrative, he had slid his arm around Elina's waist, apparently believing himself unobserved. 

"My orders are to bring Ryu to General Rhun, since he seems to be the 'dragon' that Yuna and his cronies have been chasing after. Unfortunately, that means I have to follow you on this little wild goose chase." 

"The First Emperor's tomb is but five days' travel from here," I observed. "Perhaps some of the answers ye require lie there." And travelling with them for five days would hopefully provide me with a sufficiency of opportunities to observe young Ryu . . . 

"I don't know," Elina said. "I really do want to get back to Wyndia . . . and you did promise to escort me there, Sir Ryong." 

"It seems to me that thou wouldst prefer the escort of Chief Cray," I said dryly. Cray spluttered. Elina said nothing, but her eyes gave her away. "And thou hast no reward to offer me now. I make for Chedo, alone or in company. The First Emperor's tomb is not so far out of my path, but going to Wyndia would waste time that I think I can ill spare." 

"If you want to go home, Elina, I'll go with you," Cray confirmed, and, displaying a courage I had not known he possessed, he reached over and openly clasped her hand. "Although . . . I do think we should get married the moment we re-enter Alliance territory, or maybe even while we're still in the Empire. Let them just try to separate us then. Um . . . If you'll have me, I mean. You might not want to—I'm kind of persona non grata, or whatever the term is, in Ludia at the moment, and I don't think your father's all that thrilled with me either—" 

The princess turned around, grasped the babbling Worent by the ears, and silenced him with a kiss. 

"Of course I'll have you," she said when they came up for air. "I always wanted to, but . . . well . . . Ludia . . . Anyway, I don't care about diplomacy anymore. You were the one who came looking for me, not that idiot. In fact, I'd bet he wrote me off the moment I walked out the door." 

"You can register the marriage in Chedo," Ursula said. "I doubt anyone on your side would dare argue about it then." 

"Deis says, 'Do all Imperials have such one-track minds?'" 

"Only the soldiers," Mami said. "Or at least, I don' _think_ I be quite that bad." 

"All right!" But Elina smiled as she said it. "All right, we'll stay with you for a while. I must admit, I wouldn't mind a look at the First Emperor's tomb myself—some of the things Sir Ryong has said about the man have left me rather . . . intrigued." 

"Huh," Nina said, or some sound to that effect. "Well, I don't know about you, but it's getting late and I'm kind of tired from talking so long, so I'm going to turn in." 

"I'll t-t-take f-first watch," Scias said—the first words he had uttered in my presence. At least I now understood the reason for his silence. 

Elina went with Cray to the larger tent shared by Nina's party, leaving Mami and I alone in the smaller one we had purchased in Astana—sharing a bedroll, as had become our habit. 

"Humans . . . puzzle me," I found myself saying to the canvas ceiling as I lay there, wakeful, with her at my side. "You love, and yet will not speak of it. You claim to wish only for peace, and yet embrace war. Those who claim to love honour above all else most often abandon it when their pride is injured or they are made to fear for our lives. Every second word that falls from your lips is a lie . . . and yet, you still believe that your race is worthy of being left alive." 

Mami stirred. "We lie ta oursel's too, y'know, not just ta each other. And sometimes we say we want things . . . well, because we _want_ t'want those things, even though we know it isn' really true." 

"Nevertheless, 'tis an evil thing," I muttered. 

"No," she corrected—Corrected! I could scarce believe that she dared. "It be a human thing. Most of us be not evil, we only be afraid—fer ourselves, and fer the people we love. And because we be afraid, we lie, or we pretend not t'see things. Sometimes, I think we do it because we hope that if we repeat the lie long enow and hard enow, it'll somehow turn into the truth." 

'Twas in some ways a revelation, overturning all that I thought I had understood of human behaviour. Fear . . . to be endlessly pursued by that . . . 

"But I suppose it be difficult for ya t'understan' that— y'be ne'er afraid o'anythin'," Mami added, almost as though she had seen my thought and traced it forward another step. 

I chuckled. "E'en so. For a creature who loves nothing, and who cannot die . . . what is left to fear?" But for some reason, my arm slid around her, drawing her more tightly to my side. "And thou? Dost thou also lie to thyself?" 

"Since I foun' ya lyin' in the forest, I've been lyin' t'mysel' every moment o' every day," she said drowsily. "But it be such a sweet lie . . ." 

When Elina and Cray came to wake us in the morning, our bodies were wound tight together, with Mami's head beneath my chin and my arms enclosing her, although I had no memory of moving during the night. Nevertheless, 'twas such a comfortable position that I could not bring myself to regret it.


	5. Chapter 5

'Twas during our mid-morning pause on the second day of our travels together that he sought me out. 

"You've been watching me," my younger self observed as he seated himself beside me on a fallen log. 

"Aye." I made no more reply than that, instead watching the expressions that played across his face—surprise, then indignation, then . . . amusement? Nay, 'twas some bizarre form of acceptance. 

"Elina's right about you being strange," he said. " _Why_ are you watching me? Do you expect to see something in me of this Fou Lu that fascinates you so much?" 

I shrugged. "Thou art not he, but . . . if thou dost indeed share his soul, thou art perhaps what he might have been, had the burden of Empire not been placed on his shoulders." 

"'The burden of Empire,'" Ryu repeated. "I guess it must be a pretty heavy thing to have to lug around, at that." 

There was a moment's silence, during which we looked at each other, and I wondered what he saw. 

"An' thou dost find him, what wilt thou do?" I asked. 

"I don't know. I . . . He . . ." The youth sighed. "We were meant to be one person, he and I. I suppose I should want to be rejoined with him, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't afraid. Fou Lu is ancient. He must be tremendously strong. If we merge, I doubt there'll be much _me_ left . . . although if we're enough alike, I suppose that won't matter." 

"And if thou dost find naught but an embittered and weary old dragon who cares naught for humanity?" I prodded gently. 

Ryu's shoulders slumped. "Then I really don't know what I'm going to do—try to convince him that he's wrong, I guess." 

"Then thou dost believe that mortals deserve to live," I said. 

"You really _are_ strange. Yeah, I think humans deserve to live. I'm not saying that they're all good people, but sometimes you come across one who shines—like Nina, or Cray. They're what makes it all worthwhile . . . and you can't predict which human is suddenly going to become a shining star. Scias . . . he was supposed to spy on us for the Ludians, you know, but then he switched sides because he believed it was the right thing to do. Even evil humans are capable of suddenly redeeming themselves . . . If I've learned one thing from travelling with Nina and the others, that's probably it. And . . ." He stretched his legs out in front of him and rocked back, so that his feet came up off the ground for a moment. "I don't remember what I was before I came to this world, but I think I must have been human . . . before. Dragons . . . I've never heard anyone claim that the summoning creates us, just that it calls us here, and we have to have come from somewhere." 

"'Tis an interesting thought," I admitted. I likewise remembered nothing before I had come to earth in the old Empire, but I had appeared there knowing already how to speak and how to wield a sword . . . skills that must be learned. _Had_ I been somewhere before, or had I come into being with those skills because my summoners had willed it so? 

I remained there long after young Ryu had departed, contemplating his words. A handful of good and noble humans, whose existence compensated the world for both the actions of the handful of evil ones and the mass of fearful, grey man- sheep . . . Was't indeed so? Nina, who had sought her sister so long and against such odds . . . Cray and his awkward love . . . Mami, who offered so generously of herself to one that she knew could never give her aught in return . . . would the world not have been poorer without those? And yet . . . so much evil, so much destruction, so many lies . . . The jealousy that had brought the soldiers to Sonne . . . Yuna, and the hex that had crushed Soma . . . The war that refused to end . . . 

I laughed wearily. _It seems that I become more confused with each passing moment, rather than more enlightened. They . . . are both, and deciding whether one facet of their beings outbalances the others . . . 'tis like carrying water in a sieve!_

My confusion had not yet evaporated when we arrived at my tomb, three days later . . . and found the stones of the walkway leading up to the pyramid splattered with blood. And mere moments later, we found the body of a soldier, half- hidden behind a pillar. 

"He's still warm," Cray announced as he felt for a pulse—clearly, to my eye, an exercise in futility, but there are those who never cease to hope, and he did not know that the guardian I had left behind here was . . . thorough. "Whatever's happened here is still going on . . . Hey! Ryong, wait up!" 

I had not paused by the body with the rest, but instead continued on, vaulting over fallen rubble 'til I reached the archway at the base of the pyramid. 'Twas eerily silent, but I could sense . . . 

My servant and friend stood at bay before my tomb, surrounded on three sides by grim-faced soldiers, and behind them . . . _Yohm. Of course._

I breathed in deeply as the others came up behind me. "Won-qu, enough!" I called. 

"As thou wilt, Majesty," boomed the deep, inhuman voice. Some of the soldiers, who had half-turned toward me, twisted back 'round to watch as the guardian who had served me so long and well leapt free of their cordon and positioned himself foursquare in front of the entrance at the top of the pyramid. Yohm, however, had turned entirely in my direction, and ignored Won-qu. 

"I wasn't certain that you would come back here, but it looks like Yuna's guess was right . . . although even he didn't predict you would arrive in company, Majesty." 

I sighed. "So thou truly dost serve this 'Yuna' of whom I have been hearing so much. Tell me, Yohm, what must I do to be free of thee—and him? Thou hast been a thorn in my side for far too long." 

"Sir Ryong . . ." Elina seemed to have no idea what to say, and in any case, I paid her little mind, as my attention was reserved for my opponent. 

Yohm shook his head. "Regrettably, I have my orders, Majesty." 

"So 'twould seem. But 'tis only fair that I warn thee that I am now fully recovered from my long sleep." 

"Then I suppose that, one way or the other, this will be our last battle. _Come, Kahbo!_ " 

I permitted myself one brief, regretful glance back at Mami as the creature that Yohm had called arrowed down from the sky. Then I called my power in. 

_Free!_

Naturally, 'twas but an illusion. My demi-dragon form was unstable, and sapped my energies . . . but I never seemed to remember that while I wore it. Like hand to glove, it fit me too well. Knowing that what Yohm summoned would be a creature of fire, I began to invoke a water spell . . . but then I noted, out of the corner of my eye, that Yohm was making a further, silent summoning gesture. Had I been in man-form, 'twould have provoked laughter. _Ah, so thou dost fear me at last, and call upon all thy forces . . . tell me, wilt thou also fling thine unfortunate guards into the fray?_

Then a scream of mingled fear and fury came from beside me, and light struck down from the sky. I blinked as another demi-dragon, red to my blue, rose to hover beside me. _Thou . . . why?_

_It matters not,_ I told myself, and completed my spell . . . at the very moment when my unexpected comrade invoked air. The two combined into such a lightning spell as I had never seen before, wiping the world clean of both Kahbo and whatever nameless beast Yohm had called out to join it. 

Yohm was staring. "You— _both_ of you— together, but still separate? Yuna never predicted this!" 

With a sigh of regret, I resumed my human form, to ease communication. 

"Not even the Endless know the future," I observed, "and this Yuna is but one of Those Who Pass. Thou shouldst not rely on his predictions." 

"As you say, Majesty. But that will not be of any concern to me, henceforth." 

My eyebrows rose. "Then thou hast decided to leave his service?" 

Yohm smiled. In his face, I read an exhaustion that I understood all too well. "Majesty, I have some honour still, although the concept is considered . . . quaint . . . in the modern Empire. And I have read the histories. They speak highly of your justice, but I have not read one word there concerning your mercy. I have attacked you, dishonourably, in the service of an unjust cause. I decided long ago that, when this day came, I would take matters into my own hands rather than submit myself to your judgement, and cleanse my honour the only way I can." He ended his speechlet with the key word of a spell . . . and burst into flame. 

"What—no!" Ryu, in man-form, made to dash past me, but I blocked him with my arm, feeling a shock that was more than physical during the brief moment that we touched. 

"Thank you, Majesty," Yohm gasped from the heart of the flames in the instant before he crumpled, completely consumed. 

I raised my voice and pinned the nearest guard with my gaze. "And ye—get ye gone from this place, ere I send ye to join your master!" 

The man went pale, and he and his comrades turned and fled. 

When I glanced to the side, however, I saw that Ryu was still staring at the blackened patch on the ground. 

"Why?" my younger self all but snarled at me. "I could have . . . maybe . . ." 

"'Twas his choice," I explained. "A foolish one, perhaps . . . but also one deserving some measure of respect. And he was correct—'tis not likely that I would have been so merciful as to grant him a quick death, after all that he did in his pursuit of me. 'Tis not possible—nor wise—to save some humans from themselves. Better for the world as a whole to permit them to Pass, an' they choose to do so." Suddenly, I could no longer endure his angry, uncomprehending stare. "There is much that thou wouldst doubtless discuss with thy companions. I will be . . . above." I nodded toward the top of the pyramid, where Won-qu still stood, then turned away from him to begin the climb. 

"I must repeat the mortal's plaint," my servant said as my foot cleared the last step. "I do not understand thee. To be together with him, and yet to refuse to unite . . ." 

"Old friend, I scarce understand myself." I seated myself on sun-warmed stone, facing the direction opposite that from which I had just arrived—I had no heart, just then, to watch Ryu and the others. After a moment, Won-qu settled against my back, curled into a half-moon as was his wont. I reached out absently and began rubbing the itchy places behind his ears and jaw. "My meeting with him was most unexpected, and he is not as I thought he would be. Together, I know not what we would become . . . or e'en whether we could unite at all, now. He is . . . most human, seeing only the immediate. I think that, at the moment, he most likely despises me for not lifting a finger to save that man's life." 

"Even knowing the evil that one did?" Won-qu sounded, perhaps, a little shocked. 

I allowed myself a weary chuckle. "Where I saw a creature too dangerous to be permitted to wander at large, he saw only a . . . fellow . . . human in distress. Young Ryu believes that everyone is ultimately redeemable. He has never stood in that place where the only choice to be made is whether to pluck the evil out by the roots, or let _it_ choose what to destroy . . . or if he has, he has learned nothing from it." 

Won-qu grunted and leaned into the hand that was rubbing behind his jaw. Then he stiffened, and his ears perked up. "One comes." 

"Ryong . . . I mean, Your Majesty . . ." 

_E'en thee, Mami?_ But I had known 'twould be thus . . . so why did it strike so deeply at my heart? "Won- qu," I said, "thou wilt guard this lady with thy life. I owe her a debt I can never repay." 

"As thou dost command." 

Mami but stared, lips parted, half-forming a word that never came. I offered her a tired smile. 

"And so, art thou here to tell me that Ryu and his companions have decided to flee from this old monster in disgust?" 

"Ryu's been pretty quiet, actually, especially since Ursula explained about the snake. Um . . . Can I sit down?" 

"There is space enough here," I said dryly. 

"I . . . oh, this is silly! I _know_ who y'be, now . . . but the person I see in front of me be the same Ryong I've been travellin' with ever since we left Sonne . . . that I've been sharin' a bed with fer more than a month . . . I give up." She came over and sat down beside me, though she was careful to touch neither me nor Won-qu. 'Twas I who slid my arm into the narrow space 'tween her and my servant. She stiffened for a moment at my touch, then slowly relaxed. "That's better. Y'know, yer hair's gone white again." An unexpected side effect of my transformation, apparently, although why the dye should be leached out by it when my clothes always stayed with me . . . 

"Thou wert speaking of snakes," I prompted. 

"Not exactly, but . . . Ryu and Nina were so angry at y'over that general, and then Ursula said . . . well, that she thought y'really had been as merciful as y'could. She said that there were two ways t'kill a snake, by crushing the entire thing or just cutting off the head, and that cutting off the head was better—less wasteful. And that ya always _have_ t'kill a snake, or it'll turn around and bite ya. I be not sure I understan', but Ryu and Nina must've, because it shut them right up." 

"Young Ryu . . . how does he strike thee?" I asked, moved by an impulse I could not explain. 

"Ryu? He be a nice kid—when he finishes growin' up, he'll be a good man. Right now, though, he mostly seems confused." 

"'Tis not a state limited to him only," I admitted. "I have awaited his coming these many centuries, and yet, now that he is here, I seem unable to offer him my hand. We are two halves of the same being and should be closer than brothers . . . I find it difficult to understand how we can be so different, how he can have changed so much in such a short time . . ." 

Mami frowned. "I ain't sure, but I think . . . If y'draw a line down the middle o' a spotted goat, the two sides won' have 'xactly the same number of spots. Two halves o'the same creature don' have t'be completely alike." 

The thought caught me by surprise . . . and yet, after a moment's contemplation, I could see that she had a most excellent point. I shook my head, smiling. "Wise maiden, what would I do without thee to advise me?" 

"Don' tease like that, Ryong." But she was blushing. "There be this, too—I said Ryu be a boy. Y'be a man. People change as they get older. Maybe Ryu's more like what ya were when ya were . . . born, or whatever the right word is, and y'be more like what he will be when he grows up." 

"Thou say'st that _I_ am the one who has changed." 

"She hath the right of it, Majesty," Won-qu said. "When I first knew thee, before the burden of Empire had lain on thee so long and dug in so deeply . . . thou wert different, then. As the war sapped thine energies, thou didst become . . . less optimistic. After Kayo . . ." 

"Kayo . . . I had almost forgotten that." But now, the speaking of the name brought back the anger, the helplessness, the black anguish . . . 

"Um . . ." Mami was clearly trying very hard not to ask the question, but I took pity on her, though the memory . . . 'twas a black one. 

"'Twas during the civil war, six centuries gone, when the mantle of emperor had but recently come to rest on my shoulders. Kayo was a village in the north-west of the Empire. The rebel force that had occupied it . . . they slaughtered the villagers to a man before fleeing, lest those they left behind join my men and enter into battle against them. When we arrived . . . they had left the bodies in the village square, neatly aligned, the children beside the parents . . . 'Twas over those empty husks that I reaffirmed the oath I had sworn to those who had summoned me, that I would see the old Empire reunited and at peace, and put an end to such senseless bloodshed." 

Mami shuddered. "That be horrible! But . . . those rebels . . . they must've been really scared t'do somethin' like that." 

"They were . . . frightened?" 'Twas not what I had expected—not what I had believed all these years. "Can fear truly drive humans to do such things?" 

"I think . . . yes. There was a woman, in Sonne . . . her husband beat her a lot, so one night, she took a kitchen knife and . . . stabbed him to death in his sleep. And then she killed herself, too." 

"Because she feared him . . . and feared herself, that she was able to do such a thing." I shook my head . . . then noted that Mami was shivering, though 'twas warmer here than I found truly comfortable. "Art thou . . . well?" 

"It be just . . . I don' like remembering that. I guess it be like ya and Kayo . . . it be just too much." 

I shook my head. "I think not. Kayo . . . the memory fills me with such a sense of helpless rage, and it grates on me. Those folk . . . 'twas them that I was summoned to protect. Seeing them harmed so . . . it struck at my reason. I think that too many such would drive me mad." 

"'An' thou wouldst fathom the motivations of a dragon, look to those of his summoners,'" Mami quoted softly. "I . . . think I understand that a bit better now. Although it seems strange that y'started so many wars, for someone who just wanted peace." 

"'Twas . . ." I groped for the words to finish the sentence, but in the end was forced to concede defeat. "Thy pardon, but I would ask thee to be silent for a time. I must think." 

Aye, think. About the East of the present day, that had generated an innocent like Ryu. About a promise that had not been fulfilled, and an Empire that would not permit an ancient war to end. And most of all, about an old man six centuries dead, and what he might have sought from a naive young dragon, innocent of memory and newly summoned to this world. 

All those years ago . . . had I been lied to? 

The sun had dipped near to the horizon when I rose to my feet and stretched. Then I turned to face Mami. 

"Come," I said, offering her my hand. "I would speak of this but once, and for that I must address all. Thou also, Won-qu." 

"As my master commands," my servant said . . . but he rose not until Mami had taken my hand and let me draw her to her feet. She let go once she was steady, however . . . and though I would have asked her to had she not done so, I felt a twinge of regret. But I squared my shoulders and composed myself, and then began the march down the side of the pyramid to where Ryu and his folk had pitched their tents, with Mami and Won-qu following behind me. 

No one said anything to me as I came to stand on the side of the fire nearest my false tomb, but young Ryu flinched back, half-rising. 

"Have no fear," I said to him. "I ask nothing of thee for now, young dragon. Indeed, I think 'twould not profit me e'en an' I did, for I believe our union will not take place until we both will it . . . and thou art not certain enough of me now to desire it. Nor I of thee." I spoke with confidence, for now that we were so near one another and I had released the tight hold I had been keeping on my powers, I could somewhat feel the shape of his thought. "But I would speak of other matters. Princess Elina?" 

The Wyndian girl blinked. "Yes?" 

"How wouldst thou characterize affairs in the East? When last I walked these lands, 'twas a chaos of warlords who hated the Empire only slightly more than they hated each other. Are thy lands at peace now?" 

She nodded. "I won't say it's perfect, but there hasn't been a war between Alliance nations in over two hundred years." 

For some reason, I noted, Cray looked ashamed . . . but that mattered not, placed against the fact that Elina had just indicated that the course I meant to chart was right. 

"So." I looked for a moment at each of them in turn, e'en twisting 'round to fasten my eyes for an instant on Mami, then on Won-qu, before fastening my gaze on Ryu and the two princesses, who were seated side by each. 

"Six hundred years ago, nowhere in the world was at peace," I said. "The old Empire that ruled these lands before the present one was crumbling, and any who could bring a handful of fighters to follow him was plunging in to fight over the scraps of what remained, like so many curs under a table." 

Cray stirred. "Is there a reason you want to give us a history lesson?" 

I half-smiled. "Aye, there is, and I would thank thee to attend 'til I am done. 'Twill not take long." 

"Whatever." 

"Petty civil war was not what the people of the old Empire truly wanted," I continued, "but they lacked any credible fighting force which might have put down the rebellions, and likewise lacked the means to raise such. And so, the emperor named An Shing chose to make a desperate gamble. He called upon his wise men to summon a dragon, though he knew that the spell they would need to use was but half-perfected . . . but 'twas functional enough that they succeeded in calling something, with the will of all those who wished to see those lands at peace to back them." 

There were all silent now, attention fixed on me. Good. 

"I came into this world with no memory, no knowledge of self . . . not even a name—'twas An Shing that dubbed me 'Fou Lu' and taught me of the world into which I had fallen. And 'twas as he spoke of such matters that I first felt the will of the people of the Empire moving within me, demanding that I bring them the peace they sought . . . for I am, after all, a dragon, defined in part by the will of my summoners." I vented a weary chuckle before continuing. "An Shing told me that the best way to bring them that peace would be to reunite the Empire, that there had been no war when a single banner rose above the entire world. I was young then, and naive—I did not think to question him. 'Twas not until today that it occurred to me that, while such a union might indeed have brought peace, 'twould also have placed the world under his thumb, had he lived long enough." 

I stared into the fire now, unwilling to look at faces. "The reunion of the Empire here in the West was one matter, but I should never have set out to reconquer the East. E'en had I succeeded, 'twould but have led to us overextending ourselves again, and inviting decay once more . . . and as matters fell out, I left a six hundred year war as my legacy, not the peace I sought. And 'tis time that it ended." 

"Your Majesty." 'Twas Ursula who spoke. "What do you mean to do?" 

"When I was too weak to continue on, after that first war with the East, I left my Empire in the hands of another," I said. "He swore to me that, when the time came that I was able to return, he, or his successor in that time, would place the crown back in my hands. The present Emperor has violated that oath. 'Twould seem that he loves his power more than aught else . . . but the Empire is the only child I will ever have, and I would not see it in the hands of such a creature. I mean to take it back. When that is done, 'twill be a simple enough matter to order the end of the war." And a cleansing of the hierarchy as well, to remove Lord Yuna and those like him from any position of power or authority . . . but that was no affair of those I spoke to now. 

"You meant to do that all along," Ryu accused. "That was why you were heading for Chedo." Could he sense my thoughts as I sensed his? If so, I would have to be cautious—not because I feared what he might detect in me, but because it meant that what I sensed of him must be likewise incomplete. 

"I meant to see that oath enforced, aye," I admitted easily. "The more so when it became apparent that the present Emperor would destroy the Empire rather than see it returned to my hands, for that was not the purpose for which I set his ancestor on the throne. The other . . . If I were to admit that, until today, I meant to fulfill mine ancient oath and retake the East, wouldst thou think less of me, young Ryu?" 

"I don't know," mine other self said, gazing down at his hands. "But I think . . . I'd forgive you, because you meant well." 

_Was I ever so young?_ I wondered again. 

"Deis says, 'So why are you telling us all this? You obviously don't need anyone's help to make up your mind,'" Ershin announced. 

"'Tis that I wished to call in a debt—one that affects several of ye, if not all. Princess Elina." 

"Aye—" Then she blushed, and giggled uneasily. "Now you've got me doing it too." 

'Twas beneath my dignity to acknowledge that, and so I did not. "I would have the Alliance witness these events. Wilt thou come with me to Chedo, and stand for all thy countrymen?" 

The glance she gave me was wounded, but . . . "I owe you my life . . . and I came here to try to negotiate a peace. Yes, Emperor Fou Lu, I will accompany you to Chedo." 

"Elina—" 

"Cray, don't say it," the Wyndian princess warned. "This is politics, not pleasure. Sometimes, I honestly don't know how you manage as Chief of the Worents." 

"Being Chief is more like being a war leader than being a king," Cray said. "The elders handle most of this kind of stuff for me—you know that." 

Elina sighed. "Let me spell it out, then. Fou Lu's going to kick Soniel off the Imperial throne. Edicts like the East/West ceasefire only hold during the reign of the Emperor who signed them. Unless we want to go back to war, we need to get on his good side. Got that?" 

Behind me, Won-qu chuckled, a sound like falling boulders. "I can only hope that any child ye produce inherits his mother's clarity of vision . . . and is given a divine endowment of tact!" 

The princess snorted. "I don't think I'm saying anything that Fou Lu doesn't know." 

"Indeed," I said. "Although perhaps 'twould be best for me to again leave ye to argue amongst yourselves for a time, that the embarrassment might be less." 

I suited actions to words and removed myself from the circle of the firelight, climbing the steps once more to the height and settling myself on stone to view the stars of evening as they rose. But my contemplation was soon interrupted by the sound of footfalls and laboured breathing. 

"Y'know . . . Ryong . . . ya could . . . find somewhere . . . easier t'get at . . . t'sulk in," Mami panted. "Those stairs be . . . murder . . . on us humans . . . y'know!" 

"Thy pardon," I said softly. "I . . . am fond of high places, and never before have I had to worry about anyone seeking me out on aught but business." 

"Well, I suppose someone who can fly wouldn' have t'worry about fallin'." Mami seated herself beside me once more. "Still, pick somewhere else next time—somewhere that doesn' make me feel like y'be runnin' away from me. It be bad enough that I be goin' t'lose ya when we get to Chedo." 

"And why should that be?" I asked, puzzled. 

Mami laughed. "Oh, Ryong . . . don' y'see? It wouldn' be right fer a peasant girl with dung on her feet t'be too friendly with e'en a normal emperor, much less the legendary First Emperor. I be goin' t'have t' let ya go, even if I don' really want ta." 

I took a deep breath, then grasped her chin and turned her head toward me, that I might meet her eyes. "Thou hast forgotten a thing," I said. "The First Emperor may do what he pleases. An' he chooses to keep a peasant girl by his side, there is none who may gainsay him." And, acting out of an impulse that I did not entirely understand, I touched my lips briefly to her forehead. "So much has changed around me . . . I think I will have need of thy wisdom, Mami. Of a time, I kept one of thy station by me to advise me on matters pertaining to the land and those who work it . . . 'Twould not be so odd were I to grant thee a similar position." 

"Ryong . . ." She sighed, but she also brought her hand up to touch mine. "All right, I'll come with ya, and I'll be yer advisor, or whatever the word is, and try t'pretend I be more comfortable at court than an Egg Gang'd be in boiling water." 

"'Tis all I ask," I told her as stars began to flower above our heads. _But why do I need thee so much? Why can I not let thee go?_


	6. Chapter 6

Chedo, I reflected as we approached Kwanso's dusty gates a second time, was not so conveniently positioned for one trying to reach it from other portions of the Empire. Had I but known what the future held, I would have set out the capital in some location more central, somewhere near my tomb . . . but Chedo had been both the last stronghold of the old Empire and the first of the new, and it had seemed an appropriate choice at the time. I half-smiled, shaking my head. 

"Sorry, ma'am, no admittance." 

My head came up. Mami and I had been trailing at the rear of the group, and I had been paying little attention to what lay ahead of us, so I had not noted until the guard spoke that the gates were barred. 

"But—" Nina began. 

"Sorry," the guard repeated. 

Ursula stepped forward. "I am on a mission for General Rhun, and I must reach the capital. You will admit us, soldier." 

The guard saluted, but his words were, "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but it was General Rhun himself who ordered this place sealed up. Something's very wrong in the capital. I'll call the captain for you, and you can talk it over with him, but that's all I can do." He took a deep breath, and shouted his request so loudly that Nina flinched back. Someone on the other side of the wall responded, and after a brief wait, one of the doors that blocked our path slipped open enough to allow the egress of a man bearing the same insignia as Ursula. The latter seemed to recognize him, for she addressed him by name. 

"Inlev. We have to get through here, so open this thing!" 

The other captain shook his head. "Sorry, Ursula—I have my orders. I might be able to stretch them enough to let you through, but not this lot." 

Ursula's face was turning an unattractive shade of red. "You son of a—Didn't you learn _anything_ at the Academy? Sticking by the rulebook just gets you in trouble. I have a job I need to get done here, and I need you to get out of my way!" 

Inlev glared right back at her. "Oh, I learned plenty at the Academy—like the fact that when the cadet in charge of the troop is a general's beloved granddaughter and you're not, they'll find some way to blame anything that goes wrong on _you_ while she gets off scot free! Following the rulebook might get me killed someday, but it _won't_ get me court- martialled, so at least my wife and the baby'll have my pension. Not a chance, Ursula. Unlike you, I sweated blood to get to where I am now, and I'm standing by my orders until someone higher-ranking contradicts them." 

"But—" 

I touched Mami's arm lightly, as my other hand sought and found a bit of metal that I had been carrying with me for some time now. "Abide here for a moment. I shall not be long." 

I strode up to the argument at the gate and said crisply, "Captain Ursula, what is the problem here? Control yourself." 

"I . . . um. Sorry, M—sir." 

Captain Inlev said nothing, although he was looking at me curiously. I held my hand out palm up, displaying the insignia to him. "I am Colonel Ryong, in service to General Rhun. The nature of my assignments does not normally permit me the luxury of openly displaying my allegiance to the Empire, but you have forced my hand here . . . Captain." I paused there for a moment, to permit him to contemplate the gap 'tween his rank and the one I claimed. "The Empire's continued survival may be threatened if my party does not reach Chedo promptly. You will permit us to pass, or a court-martial will be the least of your problems." 

"Um," Inlev said, much as Ursula had. "Yes, sir. I'll escort you through to the other gate, then." 

"That would be acceptable," I said. Then I turned to the gate guard. "And as for you—this conversation never took place, is that clear?" 

The unfortunate man stiffened to attention. "Sir, yes sir!" 

While Inlev was knocking on the gates and giving the men inside instructions through a fist-sized gap, Ursula came over to stand beside me. "That was an impressive performance, Majesty," she whispered. "Just don't mess it up now by starting to use 'thou' again." 

"Then distract me not," I murmured back. 'Twas, in truth, an effort to ensure that my speech followed the patterns I had been hearing since I awoke and not those of six centuries gone. 

"We'll talk later," she promised as the gates opened. She made to step through, but I gestured her back and went forward myself. If there was an ambush waiting, better by far that it fall on me than on one of the fragile mortals who accompanied me . . . but there was nothing, only Inlev, and another guard, and a few townsfolk who glanced warily in our direction but did not remain to watch us enter. 

Inlev waited until the gates had been secured behind us to make a theatrical gesture in the direction of the other side of the town. "Let me show you to—" 

"The Colonel didn't ask for a tour guide, Inlev," Ursula said sharply. "Spare us your wit." 

I held up my hand. "There are other questions that I would ask, in any case. Such as, what do you know of the present state of the capital? The news that has reached the north is . . . unclear." I was not prepared to admit that nothing had reached us at all. 

"We don't really know all that much either," Inlev said. "It appears that the problem is actually at the Imperial Palace, not down in the city. The Emperor has locked himself away, and the rumours are flying fast and furious." 

"And the nature of those rumours?" I asked. 

Inlev snorted. "Well, the most reasonable ones have some kind of disease ravaging the court, with the Emperor among the first victims. The wilder ones . . . well, everything from one of Lord Yuna's experiments going wrong and turning the Emperor into a monster to someone hitting the place with a hex to the First Emperor returning from the grave and setting the place on fire. Sir," he added as an afterthought. 

I chuckled at the ridiculousness of that last—the city I might have destroyed, if put to it, but the palace had . . . certain uses, and I would have put some effort into keeping it intact, if required. "And has anyone suggested _why_ the First Emperor would set the Imperial Palace on fire?" 

"Not in my hearing, sir. Here we are," the captain added, and indeed we were arriving at the southern gate. "I'll have it opened for you." And he strode off, calling orders to his men. 

Despite Ursula's promise, 'twas Princess Elina that she spoke to after we exited the town that afternoon, and Elina that approached me when we were encamped that night. 

'Twas near the end of the first watch, which I had chosen to take, that she came. "Your Majesty, may I sit here?" 

"'Tis thee and thine that kindled the fire," I pointed out—the fire I kept at my back, even now that it had burned down to embers, lest I blind myself against what might lurk in the dark. "Ye have more claim on this place than I, in a sense." 

Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed her folding her legs under herself and spreading her wings that she might sit on the ground. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I couldn't sleep . . . and I . . . well . . ." 

"What is't that reduces so many to stammering fools when I come near?" I asked the night. 

Elina laughed, and when she spoke again, she seemed more relaxed. "Well, put yourself in our places—what would _you_ say to a six-hundred-year-old immortal that you're trying not to offend? I was surprised at your little act today— when you started forward, I think we all half-expected you to blow that gate off its hinges!" 

"Do I truly seem so intemperate?" I asked. 

"You're . . . puzzling," the princess said. "I knew there was something off about Master Ryong from the first—you exude authority, which just doesn't fit in a mercenary soldier—but I never expected . . . this. And the more I've seen of you, the more it surprises me that you would hide your identity. You have so much confidence, so much pride . . . and yet underneath it all, I get the impression that you really are a lot like Ryu." 

I smiled. "Mami did suggest that the reason he and I were not so like was that I had changed from my beginnings." 

"Mami," the Wyndian girl repeated. "She's the other confusing thing about you. I mean, if someone had asked me what kind of person the Dragon Emperor Fou Lu, founder of the Fou Empire, would choose to travel with, 'a peasant girl' would not have been my first, or even my fifteenth, guess. Seeing it gives me hope for Cray and I—the obstacles there are certainly a lot smaller!" 

"Thy relationship with him suffers by the comparison. He clearly returns thy feelings, but I feel—I _can_ feel— naught for Mami but gratitude for the aid she has given me." I shifted restlessly, wondering why I suddenly felt the need to explain myself . . . but in the end, I submitted to it, and continued, "'Tis not in the nature of the Endless to seek to partner and wed—being without end means also that we cannot produce certain sorts of beginnings. I spoke truth when I said the Empire was the only child I would ever have. My seed is barren, and so sowing it is a fool's game I have never indulged in." 

"Um." 'Twas difficult to tell in so ill-lit a venue, but I thought the princess was blushing. "I . . . don't think that falling in love is something you can just refuse to do that way. Even trying to ignore it doesn't work forever, or I'd be married to that Ludian idiot by now. It . . . happens, or it doesn't . . . and when it does, you can't just overcome it by an act of will." 

I shrugged. "For mortals, mayhap." 

Elina shook her head. "I don't think you Endless are as different from us as you might like to think. I don't sense the kind of . . . incompleteness . . . in you or Ryu that I think would be there if you couldn't fall in love." 

I was saved from making a response by a rustling sound that came from the larger tent. Cray, half-clad, emerged after a moment of that. 

"Elina, are you coming back to bed?" 

The princess rose and went to him, and they re- entered the tent in the midst of a murmured conversation, too soft for me to hear clearly. 

I did not hand the watch off to Ursula that night, as we had agreed. Instead, dawn found me staring out over the hills with a burnt-out fire at my back, and no more able to put a name to the disquiet I felt than I had when Elina left. 

We passed through a roadblock on the highway some four days later—one that was also, or so we were told, the work of General Rhun, who had been passing through on his way back to the capital. 'Twas enough to make me dislike e'en more the rumours I had heard of what was passing there, but the soldiers Rhun had left behind knew no more than had Inlev. 

Three days after that, we reached Soma . . . or what was left of it. 

"It . . . wasn't this bad before, was it?" Mami asked hesitantly, as we stood on a ridge o'erlooking the grey-clad forest. 

"The hex has found its level," I explained. "Before, 'twas concentrated at the point of impact—now, it has distributed itself more evenly, widening its area of influence. 'Twill be centuries before this land is anything but barren, an' 'tis not cleansed. 'Tis as well that the road bends north of it." 

"Yeah, except that, if we follow it, we're going to have to go straight through _them_ ," Cray pointed out, waving his hand in the direction of the company of soldiers camped athwart the road. 

"So?" Nina said. "It's just another roadblock. We didn't have any trouble with the last one, thanks to Ursula." 

But that last was shaking her head. "See that little flagpole at the far end? The banner says this is General Rhun's Headquarters company. He's probably down there somewhere." 

And that, I reflected, might be good or bad. Rhun was an honourable man, but 'twas he who had sent Ursula to find Ryu and bring him back—for what purpose, I was not certain. I was likewise uncertain of his reaction were I to reveal myself. How much hold did Soniel truly have on him? 

"It doesn't look like we're going to have a choice," Elina said. And, indeed, we had been seen. Several soldiers were climbing the hill toward us. 

"We c-c-could fight," Scias suggested. 

"No," Ryu said in a low voice. "They're just following orders—they don't deserve to be killed. Let's go talk to this General Rhun." 

"We are in agreement, then," I said . . . but I hung back a little, so that the others preceded me down the curve of the road. "I am most weary of these dens of soldiers," I admitted softly to the ground at my feet, and Mami, who had remained at my side, squeezed my arm. 

"General Rhun's out inspecting the damage," Ursula told us as we reached the group. "We'll have to wait for him . . . sir." 

"And so we will wait," I replied with a shrug. "Our business is not so urgent that we must pursue him through the forest." And if need be, we could make up the time over the next two days. 

"You heard the man—escort us." Ursula waved one hand in the direction of the encampment. 

"Yes, ma'am." 

'Twas a tent near that flagpole with its banner that they led us to, midst the stares of the soldiers. Inside, the furnishings were limited to two folding camp stools and an assortment of empty crates. I seated myself on one of the latter, leaving the former for the princesses. 

"Not exactly appropriate for royalty, I know," Ursula said, "but this _is_ an army encampment . . ." 

Nina laughed. "You're forgetting, I've been camping out for what seems like forever now. At least we don't have to sit on the ground here, the way we do in our own tent." 

"And we're not locked up," Elina added. 

But 'twas me that Ursula was looking at, so I shrugged and said, "Where think'st thou that I spent my time, six centuries agone? My reign was composed of one war after another, and I did not oft remain in Chedo. During some of the northern campaigns, I would have counted an unpatched, unmildewed tent to be luxury indeed." 

"That short on supplies, were you?" I would not have expected Cray to speak up . . . but then, he had characterized himself as a military leader. 

"A long supply train is always vulnerable to raids," I said, "and we were far from home, oft deep in enemy territory. We were cut off more than once . . . and the north in autumn, before snow seals the roads, is miserably wet." I shook my head in remembered disgust. 

"That sounds like the observation of someone who's been there," Rhun said as he ducked through the tent flap, "although what you were doing . . . For that matter, what _are_ you doing, Master Ryong? I had expected you to be halfway to Wyndia by now, not turning up on my doorstep. Does this have anything to do with whatever turned your hair white?" 

Ursula saved me the trouble of replying by rising to her feet and saluting, drawing Rhun's attention. "Sir, I have returned with the Yorae Dragon as ordered . . . both of them." 

" _Both_ of—" Rhun's eyes widened, then narrowed as he focussed on me again. "Then you are— But why—" Then he shut his mouth firmly. "I beg your pardon, your Majesty. I . . . May I have your permission to sit down? Otherwise, I . . . believe I may fall." 

"'Tis thy tent," I pointed out dryly. "And I have never been o'ermuch concerned with ceremony. While they have their uses, in the end, such trappings are for mortals—I require no artificial distinctions to remind others of what I am." 

"No," Rhun said as he collapsed slowly onto a crate. "No, I suppose you wouldn't. If I'm to believe the history books, the foundation of your power lies in your own abilities, not in what you can order others to do . . . the exact opposite of your successors." 

"Which, in a manner, brings us to the point. Whom dost thou serve, General Rhun?" 

"The Empire," Rhun said firmly. 

I chuckled. "Well, I cannot ask for more than that. Let me pose another question, then: An' a circumstance arises in which thou must choose, wilt thou support Soniel or myself?" 

"You, Majesty." Although in truth, Rhun looked as though he had just eaten a lemon. "If it comes to open war between you and the present emperor . . . eventually, you'll win, even if it means killing off his entire army one man at a time—as I said, I've read the histories. So my duty would be to minimize the bloodshed." 

"'Tis well enough," I said—in truth, I had not expected him to do more than offer to remove his forces from the scope of such a conflict. "Now, on to other matters—what is't that has happened at the palace? We have heard naught but contradictory rumours." 

"I'm sorry to say that the reliable information I have is limited, but . . . Two days after we left Astana, Emperor Soniel ordered the palace evacuated, then sealed, although he himself remained inside. Since then, no one has been allowed in or out, and the building and its grounds have taken on such an aura that no one even wants to get near it. The commander of the palace guard did make one attempt, a few days ago, to send in a couple of scouts, but according to the message I received from him this morning, neither of them has yet returned, and he has given them up for lost." Rhun spread his hands in a gesture that was almost a shrug. 

Meanwhile, I had been struck by a most unpleasant thought. "Thou sayest that Soniel remained inside. Him alone, or was there another?" 

"How did you—? Supposedly, Lord Yuna is with him." 

Yuna again. As I had expected. 

I laughed, although the smile that curved my lips was mirthless. All the pieces had come together now, and I had gained an overview of the puzzle . . . and the image it presented was that of the ambition of one fool. "So he would seek to use his creations to oppose one of the Endless. We will put a stop to that." 

"Ryu? Ryu, are you all right?" 'Twas Nina who spoke. 

"I . . ." My younger self was shaking. "I don't understand. You're so angry, but . . . why? I felt the whole thing come together in your head, but I can't see it myself." 

"'Tis but that I am now certain of how this began," I explained as best I could. "All that has taken place since thine arrival woke me . . . all the deaths, the hex that lies on Soma . . . 'twas the actions of one man that sparked it all, and for the most petty of reasons. So much destruction, and all because a certain Lord Yuna had a desire to witness the capabilities of one of the Endless. He sought to manipulate me . . . and I will permit it no longer." 

Ryu's head swung violently. "It's more than that. What is it that you're trying so hard not to say?" 

"Thou need'st not concern thyself with that," I said, striving for calm. "I have but suffered a wound to my pride." There was no one—not even Mami—whom I would ever tell just how close to the brink I had wandered. Had a steadfast peasant girl not been there to defend her kind to me, I might have accepted the image Yuna had sought to paint for me as the truth, and condemned all mortals as evil . . . when the truth was that all the evil these past weeks had shown me could be traced back to a single source. "In any case, this does nothing to change my plans. I will return to Chedo and take up the reins of my empire again . . . and I will deal with Yuna. 'Tis the only way."


	7. Chapter 7

Our arrival at Chedo was . . . anticlimactic, truth be told. The gates of the outer town were unguarded, and people were going about their business as though naught was odd . . . until they spotted Ryu leaning against a gatepost, doubled over. 

"Ugh, I think I'm going to be sick." 

"Food poisoning?" Nina wondered aloud. "Or maybe it's the flu?" She put her hand on Ryu's forehead. 

"Can't you smell it?" mine other self inquired. "That stench . . . so wrong . . ." 

"'Tis not a scent," I said . . . and in truth, my own body was roiling in rebellion. "Though I suppose thou dost lack the experience to interpret it otherwise. 'Tis like unto what I sensed at Astana, but . . . thicker and uglier." It also proved that I had been regrettably correct about what Yuna was doing here. "There is a false dragon of that fool's creation nearby—within the palace, belike." 

"Deis says that she's probably lucky she doesn't really have a stomach right now," Ershin reported. 

"I'll say," Ryu muttered. 

"Can you pull yourself together?" Ursula asked. "I'd like to find Lord Commander Tychus as soon as possible." 

"Give me a few more minutes," Ryu said. "It seems to be getting better as I get used to it, but . . . slowly." 

And so we remained there for quite some time while the sun traced its arc through the sky, as the sense of wrongness continued to affect mine other half adversely long after I had completely regained control. 

"I think it'll be okay now," Ryu said at last, slowly straightening up. "Let's get this over with." 

The Imperial Palace Guard had set out its new command centre in the oldest part of town, in the shadow of the palace wall. Passing through that quarter, I found myself shaking my head more than once at the changes six centuries had wrought. Old landmarks gone, new ones set in their places . . . I knew, though, that 'twould have happened e'en had I not slept, and in any case, I had little use for such sentiment. 'Twas only that some of the architectural styles that had been and gone during my long slumber were less than attractive to mine eye. 

Ursula, who had been questioning townsfolk as we went, stopped at last outside the door of a large, but somewhat run-down, house, and knocked. 

"Who?" The door, I noted, was not opened. Belike the inside was less than defensible, then. 

"Colonel Ryong and party, to see Commander Tychus," Ursula responded. 

Now the door did open. "You may enter," said the man on the other side. 'Twas clearly a uniform that he wore, but 'twas unfamiliar to me. In my day, the army had supplied the guards for the palace as well . . . and as for personal guards, I'd had no need. "The commander is upstairs, first door on the right." 

The room behind the door to which he had directed us was clearly serving as both office and bedchamber, with a desk facing the door and a narrow cot crowded into the back corner behind a half-closed curtain. The guard beside the door provided the only sign that the man behind the desk was of any importance in the scheme of things, for in all other ways, he appeared unexceptionable—small, unarmed, mousy brown of hair and mien, and clad as a townsman. 

He rose to his feet and inclined his head slightly as we entered. "Captain Ursula. I'm glad to see you looking so well. Would you care to introduce your companions? Oh, and Tod . . . you're dismissed for the time being." 

"Sir," the guard said. As Ursula gave names, he saluted, pivoted on his heel, and exited, closing the door behind him. 

Once he had departed, Tychus came to rigid attention and saluted. "Your Majesty. We can speak freely here." 

"Rhun sent thee a message," I observed. "Did he also write in it that I have small use for formality?" 

But Tychus did not relax. "Majesty, I . . ." 

I sighed. "I will say this but once: I am not Soniel. Politics and precedence are games for mortals, not the Endless, and I choose not to waste effort on them." 

At last, the stiff shoulders rounded a little. "Your pardon, then. I've been a political animal for so long that it's difficult . . . But you came here for information. What do you need to know?" 

'Twas Ursula who said, "The state of affairs inside the palace." 

"Unfortunately, I don't know much that's likely to be of any use. I'm sure Rhun told you that the people I sent in never returned. But . . . if you get close enough to the place, you can hear something inside moving slowly, as though the building's been taken over by some kind of gigantic monster. And, quite frankly, the place stinks—whatever it is isn't being all that careful about its personal hygiene." 

Interesting—was that true, or was't that the psychic ugliness that hung on the air around Yuna's creations was so strong near the palace that e'en mortals could sense it? 

"What canst thou tell me of Lord Yuna?" I asked. This man must needs have been dealing closely with the court for years—perhaps he could augment Rhun's one-word description of the man. 

"Yuna . . . The first phrase that comes to mind is 'colder than a mountaintop at midwinter,'" Tychus admitted with a grimace. "Brilliant, but he has no living family and, especially, no friends. Most people are careful to stay out of his way. The only person he ever really talks to is the . . . is Soniel, who, though I hate to admit it, has always been easily flattered and rather . . . dense." 

"Thou dost not believe that he truly supports the Empire," I probed. 

Tychus snorted. "Majesty, Yuna cares only for himself and his experiments. The only reason he wormed his way into Soniel's good graces, as far as I've ever been able to tell, was to ensure that he'd be able to carry out human experimentation without fear of suffering any consequences. I think you're right in guessing that he's the one who's really behind whatever's going on." 

I made a mental note that Tychus was sharper than he appeared—but then, he would have to be, to have survived so long in the political environment of the court. 

"I trust there will be no . . . difficulty . . . an' we choose to enter the palace," was all I said. 

"Not from our side, Majesty," came the quick reply. 

"'Tis well enough." Then I turned to face the others. "I depart within the hour. Ye must decide for yourselves whether ye will follow." 

"I promised to be your witness for whatever happens here," Elina said. "I'm going with you." 

"Not alone, you're not," Cray said firmly. 

But I was watching only one face . . . and carefully not watching one other. Ryu stared back at me for a long moment, then licked his lips. 

"I'm coming. I need to see how you end this . . . but I think you knew that." 

"Then I'm certainly not staying behind." Nina's voice was as firm as Cray's had been. 

"G-going." 

"Deis says she wishes to go, so we will." 

"My commanding officer has acknowledged your sovereignty, Majesty," Ursula said slowly. "Left to myself, I intend to come along, but if you order otherwise . . ." 

"Ursula, you can't be serious," Tychus said. "Your grandfather will have eighteen kinds of fits—" 

"My grandfather and I have an agreement," Ursula interrupted. "While I wear this uniform, I'm just another officer under his command, and he doesn't give me any kind of special treatment . . . unless it's to give me the worst available missions, because he trusts me. It's my job to risk my life in the Emperor's service, and Grandfather would be angry with me if I didn't go." 

"Thou wouldst serve Us to the death, then?" I asked, using the royal plurality for the first time in a very long time, in an attempt to conceal my surprise. 

"Yes, Majesty, I would. Without hesitation. I've been watching you for almost two weeks now, and . . . you are worthy to hold all our lives in the palm of your hand." And she bowed rigidly, arms at her sides. 

And then there remained only one person who had not spoken. Reluctantly, I turned to her, and met eyes shining with tears. 

"I don' want ya t'go," she whispered—we were but two paces apart, and she quickly closed that distance and embraced me. 'Twas without my conscious will that my left arm enwrapped her torso, and my right hand rose to stroke her hair. "Ryo—Majesty—" 

"To thee, I will always be 'Ryong', an' thou dost wish it so," I murmured. "But thou speak'st now out of that fear of which, we have agreed, I have none." My reward for that was a weak and muffled giggle. "Come with us—I will protect thee." 'Twas not what I had meant to say, but once spoken, I could not take it back. 

"All right. I'd be lyin' if I said I wasn' curious to see how it be goin' t'end . . . but . . ." And she lowered her head, pressing her face to my shoulder. "I be still afraid," she mumbled into my clothing. 

I sighed. "I think I begin to understand," I said, remembering that cold, hollow feeling I had briefly experienced mere moments before, and to which I could put no name but 'fear'. What a terrible thing to have driving one's life! "But put thy mind at ease. I am true dragon, and stronger than aught that may lie within that place, I swear it to thee." 

A spluttering sound drew my eye toward where Tychus still sat at his desk. The commander of the palace guard was frankly staring at us. 

"Don't worry," Elina said sympathetically, "they've been confusing the rest of us with little displays like that for a while now. I'm not sure that even they could explain their relationship." 

Mami raised her head. "We be friends," she said firmly. "Nothin' . . . less." 

" . . . Aye." The word was wrung from me slowly, but 'twas truth . . . although I had had but few friends in my life, as my station had never encouraged it. "If ye have aught to make in the way of preparations, go now," I added to the others. "I will be at the gates to the palace compound." 

They departed in a mob, with Nina and Elina arguing about healing potions. 'Twas not until they were clear of the room that I released Mami and made to follow them . . . but she would not entirely release me, I discovered as a small, warm hand found its way into mine. It entered my mind for a moment to protest, but instead I closed my fingers 'round it and led her down into the street. 

The part of the city nearest the palace was deserted, save for us, and the gate was closed and barred shut from the outside by means of hastily nailed-on boards. I frowned as I realized that 'twas not just the distorted aura radiating from inside that made the area nigh-uninhabitable—something inside also stank in a more normal sense, a musky-reptile scent that coated the back of the tongue in a most unpleasant manner. What had that fool Yuna done? 

"Y'have that look on yer face again," Mami said. 

"'That look'?" I inquired, some little bit amused. 

"The one that says that somethin' ain't quite right, but y'don' want t'talk about it," Mami supplied. "Well, I ain't goin' t'let ya get away with that this time—so talk." 

I shrugged. "In truth, it may be naught but Yuna's ineptitude . . . but it means that I know less what to expect, within." 

" _Ryong . . ._ " No one else that I could recall had ever used quite that exasperated tone of voice with me, either. 

"Thou shouldst know well the scent of a dragon by now," I said dryly, and was rewarded with a slight blush on her part. "I think thou wouldst agree that it does not resemble this . . . foulness. Yuna's last creation . . . 'twas near-human, still, when I found and destroyed it. I know not what he may have achieved here, but I think that 'twill not be pleasant to confront." 

"Y'only be offended because that pride of yers be tellin' ya that y'be too important t'take out someone else's garbage." 

I stared at her, nonplussed, until she added, "Ryong, that was supposed t'be a _joke_. Y'ain't used t'bein' teased, be ya? Well, I guess y'wouldn' be . . ." 

"It seems that there are entire realms of human interaction I have not been permitted to take part in, ere now," I said, and Mami giggled. "And," I added more seriously, "in a sense, my life has been little but the process of destroying that which has been left behind by men. Human fear seems to lead you to create many things that you do not truly want—wars, monsters, nations—and yet are also too frightened to destroy . . ." I chuckled, though in truth, 'twas no matter for humour. "Thy race has a gift for finding ignoble uses for all things, even gods." 

"Kind o'irresponsible o' us, I guess," Mami said. "Just like little kids who canna be bothered t'put their toys away." 

"The more I think on't, the more I come to believe that this world hath no true need for my kind," I said quietly. "Our power . . . 'tis too great, too damaging, and it seems that the only thing we do that is truly useful, in the end, is clean up after ourselves and each other." The boar, the "god" of the volcano . . . "Whene'er we attempt aught else, our power causes too much to happen, too many unintended consequences . . ." As I spoke, my eyes were inevitably drawn to the palace gate. 

"Um," Mami said. "Ya've gone past the point where I can follow ya again . . . but needed or not, I be glad y'be here." And she squeezed my hand. 

"Mami . . ." 'Twas difficult to find words, but in the end, they came to my tongue. "Thou . . . when thou look'st at me, I think that thou seest a man, not a dragon. Thou hast never sought aught from me that required my powers to give. Would I be . . . very different, in thine eyes, were I naught but what thou didst first think me, when thou didst find me in the forest?" 

Mami smiled sadly. "I fell in love with ya 'fore I even knew yer name—heck, I think it started before I'd even seen y'awake. If I could . . . wish for anythin' . . . I think it'd be that ya really were just a down-on-his-luck mercenary named Ryong, and that I . . . had a chance . . . But that ain't something a dragon's power can give me, be it? Y'canna _un_ -be what y'be, and e'en if ya could, y'wouldn' be the same person that I love, afterwards . . . Aack, I ain't makin' any sense!" 

"Sense enough," I said gently, and for a moment, I found myself idly exploring the thought of that strange life—the life of a common fighter, bound by mutual affection to his wife, and with a babe on the way . . . and found that I could share Mami's regret that 'twas ne'er to be. "I think I have learned more of mortals in the months since Ryu's arrival woke me than I did in all the years previous . . . Perhaps I am e'en coming to understand you. So very strange . . ." 

"Well, were you ever really in contact with people before?" 'Twas not Mami's voice that spoke the question, but Elina's. Though I had not been aware of her arrival, the Wyndian princess stood now some ten paces from we twain. "I doubt emperors have much more freedom of movement than princesses. In Wyndia, I was always surrounded by guards and courtiers—it wasn't until after I left that I ever really had much opportunity to talk with ordinary people. I'll bet An Shing surrounded you with picked men the moment you . . . arrived . . . and most of them ended up sticking around after you became emperor because it just didn't occur to you to get rid of them." 

In truth, 'twas uncomfortably close to the mark, but I was saved from having to make a response when Ryu and his party arrived all in a mob. 

"Going to need a pry-bar to get that open," Cray observed, staring up at the gates. 

"Nay." I let go Mami's hand and strode forward. A single well-placed blow, backed with the force of my powers, shattered the boards and sent the gates swinging back on their hinges. The foul stench thus released forced me to turn my head away for a moment . . . and when I did, I discovered that all the others, e'en Ryu and Mami, were staring at me with wide eyes. Had my younger self truly attained so little of his power that he could not have destroyed mere wood? 

"Come," I ordered crisply, turning back. "I have no time to waste in waiting for laggards." 

And so, after six centuries, I came to walk again on the grounds of my old palace. It had suffered sorely in the interval . . . though I suspected that, had it not been for the countless delays that had beset me since I had woken, I might have found it in better order. The outer lawn and the stream that cut across it—a work of mortal artifice and not of nature, although there might be none other than myself who still knew that—were, at first glance, as I remembered them . . . but looking closer, I could see that the green growth that I crushed underfoot was no longer truly grass. 'Twas in the early stages yet, but it had begun to grow and distort, as so many things will do in the presence of one of the Endless . . . 

Nina yelped as a coil of green curled about her ankle, and Ryu's and Scias' swords flashed. When they were done, the younger princess stood at the center of a brown circle where the plants had been so closely cropped to the earth that the bases of them were barely visible. I sighed and shook my head. 

"Ryong . . . ?" 

"I but regret that we must groom the lawn in so unusual a fashion," I explained to Mami. "It is, in the end, but another victim, warped by the aura here into an unnatural form." The power here . . . I was gaining a clearer sense of how 'twas wrong. It sought not merely to uplift, but to control, and would likely warp even that which the powers of a true Endless had already touched. Then another thought occurred to me, and I stiffened. If that were so, and the grass was already so thoroughly changed, what of . . . ? 

I began to run, ignoring Mami's "Ryong!" and Cray's baffled, "What the hell's this about?" 

Inside, I skidded to a halt at the edge of apparent emptiness over which flowed shallow water. "A-tur! A-tur, thou art summoned! Show thyself!" 

For a moment, there was nothing . . . then came stumbling, awkward footfalls. "Do mine ears deceive me? Majesty, is't truly thee? Speak, I beg thee—I can see but dimly . . ." 

"'Tis I," I confirmed. "Thou need'st hold thy vigil no longer. I regret only that I could not arrive sooner." 

The others arrived behind me, but my attention was concentrated on what staggered from the darkness and fell to its knees before me. "Forgive me, Majesty. I have become weak, these past few days . . ." 

"The aura of Yuna's creation seeks to twist thee," I said, placing my hand gently on the forehead of the creature that, save his brother Won-qu, had served me the longest. A-tur . . . he should have been beautiful, but now sweat matted his coat, and his eyes were overlain with a milky film. Where his skin showed, 'twas too brightly coloured, as might have been the case of a human flushed with fever. "And 'tis thine efforts to fight it and remain true to me that have drained thy strength." 

"My lord, why hast thou sought me out? Is there . . . aught I can do to aid thee?" But A-tur shook pitifully even as he spoke those words. "Forgive me . . . my head aches . . ." 

"Hush," I said firmly. "I wished but to release thee from this place, that thou might'st recover. Go now to the north, and seek out thy brother. I will find thee there." 

"I thank thee, sire." A-tur heaved himself back to his feet and began to stumble forward. Ryu and his companions parted to give him an unobstructed path to the door. 

Once A-tur had made his way outside, Cray cleared his throat and said, "Those really are the damndest monsters you have working for you, Fou Lu. I've never seen anything like them before." 

I half-smiled. "'Tis true, there is no other creature in this world that is so loyal as a dog . . . for dogs they both were, of a time, 'til my power soaked into them and twisted them. All matters considered, however, I believe I prefer the grass—'twould be many years before what we saw outside could grow to a point where it could protest as it was cut down." 

"Our power . . . can turn a dog into something like that?" mine other half asked slowly. "I mean, I knew it could animate things like Ershin, but I never . . . What happens when it gets into people?" 

"Naught, insofar as I can tell—they resist it too well," I said. "Have no fear for thy friends, young Ryu—'tis only the lesser creatures that suffer so from our prolonged presence." 

Ryu said naught, only looked at me for a moment. I sighed, turned away, and took a step forward onto the blackness, feeling water soak my boot and wishing that I had dared keep A- tur here for long enough to have him carry me across . . . although 'twould not have been such a comfortable ride, considering, and I would not have sought to keep him in such pain as he exhibited. 

I ignored the yelps, splashes, and curses in my wake until I reached the portal that led to the inner palace, where I stopped and turned. 'Twas Ursula who had fallen, from the look of it—her uniform was soaked down the front, and clung to the curves of her body. It did not provide an appropriate accompaniment for her murderous expression. Scias might have fallen also, for he was wet to the knees, but his reaction was more stoic . . . to the extent that I could make out past his forelock, at any rate. 

I prodded the door that led into the inner palace, and frowned when it failed to open. It did not seem to be locked so much as to have something pressing upon it from the far side . . . In the end, I was forced to deliver a power-enhanced blow to it, like that with which I had struck the outer gates, before it would permit us to pass through. 

The atmosphere in the room beyond was oppressive— shadowy, still, and hot, with that peculiar reptilian stench riding above all. 

"If I didn't already know there was something wrong here, this would have convinced me," Ursula said. "This is . . . ugh . . . Well, at least it isn't cold. Looks like the gate to the stairs is locked, though. There should be a key in the guardroom to our left . . ." 

"There is another way, provided that the spells have not worn themselves to nothing in mine absence," I said, walking forward to make a quick examination of the plinth. "All appears to be in order," I added after a moment. "Come here." 

"You know, I'm starting to get really tired of being ordered around," Cray said. "You're not _my_ emperor, Fou Lu, in case you'd forgotten." 

I shrugged. "Remain here an' thou wishest . . . I will go forward alone, if I must." 

A small, warm hand slid into mine for the second time that day. "Ne'er alone," Mami corrected. "I said I'd follow ya, and I will." 

"Cray doesn't really mean it, anyway," Elina added. "He's just being prickly." 

Cray snorted and folded his arms, although how he managed to do so without dropping the massive club he always carried with his was a question that not e'en a god could answer. He also edged closer, which was more important. When I was reasonably certain that all were near enough that the magic would envelop them, I activated it. 

Light flared, and we were deposited on a knoll in the garden outside the entrance to the throne room. Or . . . it had been a garden, 'till recent events had distorted it. Now 'twas e'en more rank and o'ergrown than what we had found in the front, and I misliked the way that some of the shrubs were twitching. 

Ryu was staring at something on the ground. I sensed curiosity, then revulsion, coming from him. 

"What is it?" Nina asked as my younger self scrambled backward. "A . . . tail?" she added, approaching where Ryu had stood and looking down. 

Aye, a tail, scaled and green and but little visible against the undergrowth. A dragon's tail . . . or a travesty of one created by one who had never seen the true form of any of the Endless. 

"Touch it not," I said, blocking Cray's club with my arm when he moved as though to poke at it. "We need not announce ourselves so." But the sound of my voice made the tail twitch and withdraw rapidly through between the bushes, leaving only its foul stench behind. 

"So much for that idea," Elina remarked wryly. 

As for myself, I misliked that the creature that awaited us appeared to be so sensitive to my presence . . . but waiting here would not change that. I cast a wind spell with a sharp wave of my hand, clearing a path through the rank growth to the vestibule of the central inner palace . . . where I let go Mami's hand. She looked at me, but did not protest. Perhaps on some level, she e'en understood why I did it. 'Twould, I hoped, simplify this next transaction did I appear every inch the immortal God-Emperor from the moment I sighted my quarry. 

I flung the doors to the throne room open with a broad gesture . . . and was mildly surprised to find the chamber beyond empty. 

"Wha'?" Behind me, Cray half-echoed my thought. "Shouldn't they be here?" 

"'Twas one of the possibilities," I said with a weary smile—indeed, 'twas the one I had deemed most likely, but it appeared that either the mysterious Yuna had a better sense of drama than I had thought, or his nominal master's ego was . . . impressive. "But it appears that we must seek to end this in the place where it began." 

"I don't understand," Nina said. 

I shook my head. "It matters not—I but spoke my thoughts aloud. Come." 

"If he says that one more time, I'm going to bash his head in." I doubt that Cray truly wished for me to overhear that, but it seemed he had no grasp of just how acute the senses of a dragon are. 'Twas beneath my dignity to acknowledge it, however, so I did not allow so much as a hitch in my step as I led them toward the doorway behind the throne. 

"Stairs?" Elina sounded surprised. "In most palaces, the royal apartments would be back here, but this looks more like it goes to the dungeon . . . " 

"There are no dungeons," I said. "Or . . . there were none, in my day—a handful of holding cells only, for prisoners awaiting transfer elsewhere. I cannot say that such necessarily remains the case. This, however . . . it leads to a place from which I wished to bar those I did not trust." 

"The place where you and I arrived in this world," Ershin announced abruptly. "Deis says," it added. 

"So you had your palace built over it for . . . control?" The elder princess was no fool. 

"'Twas one consideration," I admitted. "The world was in an ill enough state—how much worse would it have been if each competing army had summoned its own god to fight for it? By the time 'twas done, the victor might have reigned supreme over a ball of mud and sand, devoid of all life save himself. So I saw to it that none would enter this place without my leave, and took it upon myself to destroy certain records . . ." 

"God wars," Nina said. "It sounds . . . like a nightmare." 

"A nightmare from which there would have been no waking," I agreed. 

"And yet our histories don't say anything about it," Cray challenged. 

I chuckled. "Chieftain, I truly hope thou wilt look to thy future wife for political acumen! 'Twas not a possibility I dared discuss with any, for fear that I might make it real merely by speaking of it in the hearing of the wrong man. E'en in the empire, the matter should have been lost to history . . . and e'en now, if I thought there were some method by which ye might put such events into motion, I would not speak of this. But hush yourselves now—we near the end of the stairs." 

The light outside seemed brighter than it truly was after the dimness of the stairwell, and the wind caught at my hair, whipping it about at my back as I stepped out onto the stone pavement, worn and bleached by sun and wind to a smooth, soft yellow. When last I had come this way, shortly before exhaustion had forced me into my long sleep, the square ritual ground had been clean and empty, scoured by wind. Now 'twas . . . befouled. Some form of apparatus lay among pools of stinking slime, and there were markings drawn on the pavement with chalk—not those of the summoning ritual, but others that were unfamiliar to me. Mixed in with the rest were certain paraphernalia of the medical profession which, while I was not entirely familiar with some of their uses, seemed to confirm some of my more unpleasant speculations. 

Two figures stood on the narrower platform above the main one. One wore a hooded robe that concealed its form to such a degree that I could not tell whether it was male or female, though I would have wagered that I could put a name to it nonetheless. The other turned slowly to face me as Ryu and his companions emerged from the staircase and fanned out behind me in a semicircle. He was a tall, slender kitsune, wearing the robes of a scholar and senior bureaucrat, unchanged since before the present empire was born, and he bowed deeply to us . . . nay, to me only. 

"Majesty, may I have the honour of being among the first to welcome you home?"


	8. Chapter 8

"We have no need for the welcome of traitors," I said coldly. 

"Your Majesty . . . may perhaps have mistaken me for someone else," the kitsune said delicately. "I am—" 

"Thou art this 'Yuna' whose minions have been buzzing about Our ears like so many insects since We awoke." 'Twas not merely the imperial plurality I invoked then, but the divine one—a reminder and a warning. 

"Majesty, I am certain now that you mistake me—I have no minions." 

"Having another give orders in thy place makes the intent behind them no less thine." 

The kitsune went down on his knees and prostrated himself . . . perhaps not realizing that the difference in height between the surfaces that supported us would prevent e'en that from appearing very humble. "I beg your forgiveness, Majesty. I meant only to provide you with an escort, but General Yohm—" 

"We freely forgive all crimes that thee and thine have committed against Our person, for We were ne'er in any true danger. However . . ." I paused meaningfully. "Thou hast also committed crimes against Our empire, and these We do _not_ forgive. The damage done to the Forest of Soma alone will take years to repair. Thou hast repeatedly shown the ability to commit actions on a grand scale, coupled with a reckless disregard for the consequences of those actions. 'Twould endanger Our empire if We were to permit thee to live." 

"Majesty—" 

"This is Our judgement." I made the words echo from the stone. "Submit to it, and thy death will be quick and painless. Resist . . . and We will not guarantee such." 

'Twas then that the heretofore silent robed figure finally stirred. "We do not recognize your right to mete out justice to our servants." The voice was gravelly and thick, as though issuing from a misshapen throat. "Your time is past, old dragon. _We_ rule here now." 

"And _We_ do not recognize the right of an oathbreaker who hides his face from the world in shame to rule even the ground on which he stands . . . Soniel, was't not? However, if thou dost depart this place in a timely manner, We may permit thee to live." Goad him enough, and he would show me if my suspicions were correct, I knew. 

"Go back to your tomb," Soniel replied. "If you do not . . . you will have to face us, and you had best know: we are also a dragon." 

So I had correctly fathomed Yuna's plot. "A poor imitation of such created by thy disrespectful minion, perhaps," I said. "Are We to fear such as thee, then? We think not." 

"A _real_ dragon wouldn't need to wear that robe," Elina added unexpectedly. "You had the palace evacuated because you didn't want anyone to see what kind of freak you were turning into, didn't you? A genuine Endless doesn't need to be ashamed of _any_ of his forms—they're all beautiful, even the ones that scare normal people out of their minds." 

"Silence!" 'Twas less than authoritative, spoken in that thick voice, however. 

"If you want us to shut up, come down here and make us!" Cray shouted back. 

'Twas apparently the last straw, for misshapen hands shot from the sleeves of the robe to rip the garment down the front and fling it away. 

Elina had been right: what lay underneath that robe . . . 'twas freakish. Half dragon and half man, some might have said, but 'twas an ill blending altogether unlike my battle- form. The form was basically that of a man, but the limbs were ill-matched, one leg longer than the other, so that that knee had to be always bent if the torso were not to be canted to one side. One hand was yet human, the other taloned and fearsome, and the face . . . 'twas enough to give a child nightmares, a freakish patchwork wherein no feature in the left half matched its mate on the right in size or style. The hide was also a patchwork, scales and skin mixed in no particular pattern, and the green fluid that dripped from one nostril spoke of like problems within. 

"Ick," was Nina's observation. 

"Our metamorphosis is not entirely complete," Soniel said in that thick voice. "When it is, we will be returned to our human form." A lie Yuna had fed him, I suspected—the kitsune could no more know what the outcome of his experiments would be than Soniel himself did. "But we are more than dragon enough to defeat _you_." 

"We tire of this posturing," I said evenly. "An' thou wouldst fight Us, come here—else silence thy prating." 

The jump was clumsy, and the landing on the lower platform awkward—Soniel had not thought to account for the uneven lengths of his legs, and came near to toppling onto his side. I snorted derision, and formed my will into a sword . . . but was given no chance to use it. 

Soniel raised his taloned hand, and a half-sphere of greenish light enveloped him. When it had cleared . . . 'twas evident whence that tail we had so briefly viewed outside had come. 

His dragon form was even more monstrous than his human one. Not only was it asymmetrical, its dark green scales interrupted here and there by patches of human skin, but the sizes of its parts seemed to fluctuate slowly, limbs growing larger and bulkier, then shorter and thinner . . . _I will need to be cautious of that,_ I told myself—dodging a blow in the wrong way might result in a successful strike by my opponent, an' his limbs altered themselves just so. 

And indeed, the first thing I was called upon to do in that battle was avoid a blow, as Soniel's tail lashed out at me. I leapt and made the transformation into my battle-form in midair, then hovered opposite my bizarre opponent, studying him. 

The problem in deciding where to attack was that the bizarre artificial dragon had too _many_ vulnerabilities, any of which might lead to his death . . . if Yuna had not succeeded in giving his creation the immortality of a true Endless, but I thought he had not. So. When the next blow approached, I threw myself not up, but under and forward, and landed a firm blow to a scaleless part of Soniel's torso. 

I was rewarded with a roar of pain and a flow of dark, turgid blood . . . which did not lessen even as seconds passed. Apparently, it was at least as difficult for this creature to heal its dragon-form as it was for me . . . Well enough. 'Twould take some time to beat him to death, but he did not deserve the honour of my using any greater weapon than my hands on him. 

I drew blood from his shoulder, and again from his hip, but an attempt at a kick to the head went awry when his neck suddenly surged out longer and flipped me upward into the air . . . although I noted as I descended that I had drawn blood regardless. I allowed myself to fall until my feet struck stone, to orient myself, and was about to push off again when— 

"Ryong, look out!" 

Mami's warning, alas, came too late. I was in the midst of turning when steel pierced my side. Nay, 'twas colder than true steel, that metal, like a shaft of ice through my vitals . . . I completed the turn to see Yuna smiling thinly at me. I looked coldly back at him. 

"So thy confidence in thy creations is less than it would appear . . . and thy confidence in another's magic greater," I observed, my form rendering my voice near as thick and strange as Soniel's. "We thought Dragonslayer lost six centuries ago, when its wielder vanished into the desert in the East. But 'twill not be sufficient to kill Us." 

My groping left hand found the hilt of the sword, and I drew it loose and flung it aside. It rang on the stones, splattering drops of dragon's blood—of my blood—in a wide arc. With my other hand, I struck Yuna, and the force of the blow lifted the slender kitsune and flung him to the higher platform, permitting me to take grim pleasure in the thought that there must be scarce an unbroken bone left in the traitorous fool's body. 

My left hand pressed against the wound, but could not completely stanch the flow of blood, and I realized that this fight had ceased to be easy. I could not heal myself without returning to my human form, and in any case I doubted that even Ambrosia would have any effect against a wound dealt to me in this form by Dragonslayer. Even worse, the kitsune, stronger than he looked, had sunk the blade deep. I needed to end this quickly, but . . . 

_Ryu._ Was I reaching him with my thought? I could not be certain, but deep inside me, there was . . . a resonance. _Ryu. Had I a choice, I would not burden thee, but . . . If I do not survive this battle, young dragon, or if it weakens me so that I must once more sleep away the centuries, there is no other but thee that I may charge with the care of all I have built. The Empire . . . 'tis more than mortals can handle for themselves, I think, and 'twas perhaps ill-done of me to forge it, but now that it exists . . . Thou must choose whether thou wilt rule it in trust, or see it peacefully dispersed. Perhaps then, the purpose for which we were summoned will be fulfilled, and our soul may go its way in peace at last._

If he listened . . . well, at least 'twould be one regret the less, one less way in which my tremendous, unwieldy power had scarred the world. Ryu had the right of it, perhaps—to live as a mortal might be less disrupting than what I had done. 

Then, knowing that my time was limited by the strength that bled away, welling drop by drop between my fingers to run down my leg and splash against stone, I invoked a breath attack against Soniel . . . then in the next moment, as his head rose to make his own attack in opposition, I cursed myself for a fool, for the power of such attacks is tied to the wielder's strength . . . Best to use something not so reliant, and as Soniel might share our near-immunity to the Death spell, that left . . . 

I flung myself straight at him . . . or appeared to. At the last moment, I twisted sideways and gathered power around my hand, then struck without worrying whether my blow would encounter scales or skin. 

My hand sank deep into his side, making a bloody hole, and I closed my fingers around what I found within and _pulled_ , pushing off with my feet against the intact hide. 

I think 'twas part of a lung that I withdrew, though I am certainly no master anatomist. Regardless, 'twas sufficient to make Soniel fall to one knee and begin a roar that ended in a cough. Then he released his dragon form, reverting to the ugly demi-human one we had first seen. Relieved, I allowed myself to drop back to the surface of the stone and return to my human form. As I had feared, however, that did naught for the wound Dragonslayer had left behind . . . although I might reassure myself, as I swayed on my feet, that Soniel scarce seemed to be in a better state. 

Or he was not until he bent and took a small object from the rags of his robe. Slowly, he held it up so that I could see it—a small white nut whose surface glittered with an opaline sheen. Ambrosia. I tried to invoke a wind spell to knock it from his hand, but my vision blurred at a critical instant, and when I had recovered myself, he had clearly swallowed it, for his wound was closing. 

I sighed. What foul luck when I was already so weary, and becoming more so by the moment as blood leaked from my body. Nevertheless, I would not permit Soniel and his puppetmaster to win. Invoking my battle-form when I was in this condition would require concentration, so I widened my stance to improve my balance, and closed my eyes . . . then opened them again when I felt human hands close on my gore-covered arm. 

"Ryong . . ." 

"Mami." I tasted the copper-salt of blood on my tongue. "Let go. I must . . ." 

"You're in no shape to try that again, old dragon." Ryu's voice came from my left, but I had not noticed him until he spoke. "We'll deal with him this time. Stay here and let Elina patch you up—if there's a third round, we'll probably have to yield it to you again." 

"Why . . . ?" I would have swayed, had Mami's hands not steadied me. 

My younger self smiled, a bit sadly. "Well, when you spoke to me from . . . inside . . . I finally realized that I'd misunderstood . . . Anyway, we'll talk later. Right now, we have a dragon to deal with." 

As I watched him walk away, towards Soniel, trailing those who had accompanied him from the East, I felt the light tingle of a healing spell being cast o'er me . . . but when 'twas done, the knifing pain in my side was still there. 

"I don't understand," Elina said plaintively. "Why won't it close?" 

"'Tis the nature of the blade that dealt the wound," I explained as I watched Ryu and his friends swirl 'round Soniel's dragon form like so many gadflies—gadflies with vicious stings that were drawing blood. "Dragonslayer—a foul weapon forged six centuries ago to be my bane. Had it struck me while I was in this form, it would have done no more harm than any other sword, but my battle-form is . . . vulnerable . . . to the magics in it. No healing spell will cure this." 

"Then get your hand out of the way so I can at least bandage it before you bleed to death, you idiot! I . . . It will heal eventually, right?" 

"Given time, my natural vitality will overcome the magics in the sword," I admitted as I moved my left hand and felt the trickle become a stream. Then a pad of cloth was firmly pressed against my side. "Or . . . it did previously, and this wound is not so severe as that." 

Cray's club struck Soniel's head, and the mock-dragon roared. Then . . . my head snapped 'round as I caught sight of a movement on the upper level, where I had flung Yuna. A feeble wave of a hand, a mis-aimed ice spell that could do no more than rime the stones under the feet of the combatants . . . I raised my own hand to cast fire ere it took an ally's feet out from under him at an inopportune moment, then spoke a vile curse that I had not heard since my awakening (and startled a giggle from Elina, indicating that it was likely obsolete) as I sensed a casting of the great earth spell Patoh Pah. So Yuna's imitation dragon could cast our magics as well, could it? Perhaps I would have to revise my estimate of the kitsune's skill. 

I flung myself into action as I felt the two spells combine. I had little strength left, and little magic, but I could still form my will into a sword, and make it strike true. What strength I did have, I gathered for a single leap that carried me over the nascent mud slide of the combined spell and onto the back of the would-be dragon. 

"No more Ambrosia for thee," I muttered. 'Twas a measure of my weakness that it took me three blows to sever the neck, while I clung to its base with my legs and hoped that the frantically wriggling near-dragon would not succeed in shaking me off. When it was done, my strength was utterly drained, and a dying twitch of the body flung me clear. I skidded o'er stone on my shoulder and left side, tearing loose the bandage that Elina had applied to my wound mere moments before. 

"Ryong . . ." 

I blinked mine eyes open—it had been so easy to let them fall shut for a moment . . . "I live yet," I said to Mami, then extended my right hand. "Of thy goodness, help me stand. There is one more duty that I must perform ere I may rest . . . one that I would not visit on young Ryu." 

"Tell me what it is, and I'll do it anyway," Ryu said as he came to stand behind her. 

I shook my head. "Nay. This . . . thou hast not toughened thy soul to endure such matters, youngling. 'Twould break thy heart, and I think . . . I think 'twould be better for thee, and for my people, that I leave that heart intact." 

Mami gripped my bloodied hand and drew me to my feet, and I gave Ryu a long, hard glance ere I turned towards the stairs and began, painfully, to ascend to the upper platform. Oft I faltered, but whene'er I did, Mami's shoulder was there beneath my hand, supporting me. Then I stood o'er the kitsune's broken body, and the world was silent save for the whisper of the wind, and his laboured breathing . . . and mine. 

'Twas an effort, this time, to form the sword of my will, and as I did so, Ryu's breath caught. "You're going to . . . in cold blood?!" 

I looked at him. "A death is a death, whether the killer's blood be hot or cold. Passion should not excuse murder . . . and this is not murder, but justice. This . . . creature . . . is evil. I cannot number the innocents that have been harmed by its actions. An' I permit it to live, 'twill harm many more, for it has no conscience . . . and I will be to blame for every injury it deals." 

"But still . . ." 

I sighed. "Ryu . . . did I not say 'twould break thy heart? But understand this: with the power to act comes the responsibility to do so . . . or to stay thy hand, _knowing_ that thou hast made a choice for which thou may'st be brought to account. Thou wilt also have to make such choices, young dragon—this is the last such that 'twill be within my power to spare thee—and the burden will be heavy. How think'st thou that I became so bitter? But 'tis not a burden any can lift from thee. Thou art dragon, therefore thou _hast_ the power to act, and the decisions will rest on thy shoulders." 

I stabbed downward. The kitsune's body twitched one more time 'round my blade, then grew still, and I permitted my sword to fade into nothing once more. 

My younger self stared levelly at me over the body. "I don't want your empire." 

"Refusing it is also a choice," I said, ignoring the way my vision was beginning to narrow and blur. "I cannot shoulder the burden again. Weak as I am, I will soon fall into a second long sleep." 

"No!" 'Twas as much yelp as word. "Ryong, you . . ." 

I turned, and gently gathered Mami against me. "I am sorry," I said softly into her hair. "Had I a choice, I would not be parted from thee so soon, but . . . 'tis my fate, it seems." _Nor will I e'er be able to put a name to what I feel for thee, now._ And that pained me, although I could not have said why. 

"Do you really think I'm going to let you run away from all this, old dragon?" 

My younger self's words drew my attention back to him, but what he was doing was so unexpected that it took a moment for me to truly understand what I was seeing. 

Ryu was holding his hand out to me, over the kitsune's dead body, and I could sense within him his resolve and his decision, but . . . 

"Why now?" I asked. 

"I said before that I'd misunderstood you," my younger self said. "You . . . have this high-handed way of doing things . . . At first, I was convinced that you thought of people as toys, or pets. It wasn't until you tried to convince me to take over your empire that I figured out that it's more like you see mortals as children, and yourself as a parent, so you try to take all the decisions—all the pain—on yourself . . . Damn, this is coming out all scrambled, but . . . you understand, don't you? You can see my heart, just like I can finally see yours. I still don't believe that you're _right_ , but the wrongness that's still left is something I can understand, and maybe even respect." 

I looked again at his hand, then at his face. _Why do I hesitate?_ If we were joined, I would be healed—on some level, I was certain of that. And yet . . . 

Suddenly, I understood, and chuckled. _Thou hast grown, youngling. 'Twas not long after we first met that thou didst speak to me of thy fear of being subsumed by me—I never thought at the time that_ I _would come to fear receiving the same treatment from_ thee _!_

Realizing that I still held Mami in my arms, I released her and pushed her gently aside, saying, "Abide a moment . . . and fear not, whatever may befall." 

There were tears in her eyes, but she nodded. 

Slowly, I extended my hand and clasped that of my younger self. 

There was a flare of light and a high-pitched scream— whether of pain or of triumph, I knew not—and Ryu's body flared, dissolved, and flowed into mine as had the dragon crystal in the underground shrine so long ago, and . . . 

. . . we were one at last.


	9. Chapter 9

It was not an easy fusion, and even when it was over, there were rough seams inside us, places where our thoughts echoed and chased one another instead of overlapping as they should . . . but it was still more comfortable than the emptiness of separation, and the pain in our side was gone as though it had never been. 

— _but it was real; I felt it too, whenever your thoughts touched mine—_

An exploring hand found our garments still sticky with blood, although the skin beneath them was unbroken—Fou Lu's body, or close enough to it, Fou Lu's garment . . . When we understood that, something shifted ever-so-slightly inside us. 

— _yes, I gave over to you, old dragon, because it's you that your empire needs_ — 

"Ryong . . . That is you, isn't it? Or . . . Ryu?" The expression on Mami's face was confused. 

"We . . . are both," we said slowly. "As it was always meant to be. However, Ryu has . . . subordinated himself somewhat. Ultimately, we suppose, for the two of us together . . . 'Ryong' fits best—a false name that has become a truth." 

"Oh . . ." The frown that Nina had been wearing smoothed out as we spoke, but we scarcely noticed—the bulk of our attention was on Mami, though there was still a part of Ryu that yearned wistfully toward the younger Wyndian princess. 

— _still, it isn't as though she ever gave any real sign of returning my feelings_ — 

Mami . . . we understood now what Fou Lu had felt for her, had a name for that emotion. We reached out gently and drew her close to us again. 

"Didn't we tell you not to be afraid, beloved?" we asked as we brushed a stray lock of hair back from her forehead. Her sudden blush and open-mouthed surprise made us smile. "Fou Lu would have been calling you that weeks ago, if the part of him that should have understood those emotions hadn't mostly gone to Ryu." 

"B-but—" 

We silenced her with a kiss—the first true kiss she had ever received from any part of us. "Now, hush," we said gently, before she could recover. "There is something which we must do. Afterwards, you and we will have time to talk about this." 

"Something that you have to do," Cray said slowly. "Like what?" 

Part of us was annoyed at him for asking us to justify ourselves to him, but . . . the Worent had also been Ryu's friend. 

We smiled Fou Lu's sweet, weary smile. "All of this . . . the meeting of Fou Lu and Ryu, the overthrow of an emperor, the animosity that has grown between certain nations in the East, the centuries-long war between East and West, even your presence here . . . it is ultimately due to the actions—or rather, the mere existence—of the Yorae Dragon. Of a god. And yet, the majority of those effects weren't anything that we ever intended. It's as though you threw a pebble into a lake, and the ripples suddenly became huge waves that swamped the shore. Just by existing, we alter the course of history in ways that not even we can predict. Humans summon us to this world looking for help, but in the end we do more harm than good. The time has come to purge this world of its gods, and ensure that no more are ever summoned." 

Cray's eyebrows shot up. "That's . . . yow. What if some of the others don't want to be evicted?" 

We shrugged. "We intend to offer them a choice between leaving and remaining here in a . . . diminished state. But if it comes to a fight, we are younger and stronger than the others. To retreat permanently into dragon form means that one has already begun to fade. And now we would ask that you be silent for a time, and permit us to concentrate." 

The gesture—left arm rising until it pointed straight out from the shoulder, the same one as we had always used in invoking a breath attack—was unnecessary, but it felt somehow right, a familiar way of gathering up our powers. 

— _we're going to have to erase all memory of the ceremony from the minds of the people in Chek and destroy all of Yuna's books and notes, remember_ — 

— _'tis not necessary to teach thine elders the way of the world, youngling_ — 

Light flared around us as we sought out each in turn with our mind—Wind and Grasslands, Earth and Ocean, and others, some so old and tired they had faded into nameless crystal—and offered a choice: departure, or transformation . . . or oblivion. We were surprised at how many chose that last, although perhaps we should not have been. Those poor, weary old crystals deserved their rest. 

Then there were only two left. 

"Deis." 

We could see her now, in the place she had created for herself within that suit of armour, watching the outside world through an image projected into a mirror that she held. 

"Ryong," she greeted us. "Is it my turn?" 

We nodded. "Although we scarcely have to ask your preference—Ryu remembers how badly you wanted to return to the place that you came from . . ." 

"Um. Actually, I've changed my mind. I'd like to stay. I'm . . . kind of curious about what's going to happen next." 

We chuckled. "Very well. Do you want us to separate you from Ershin—keeping in mind that you will no longer have the power to help him?" 

Deis snorted. "I'm not sure you can really separate us completely—even if I had my own body, I bet the damned thing would still follow me around . . . Yeah, bust me loose, so long as it doesn't kill the metallic idiot." 

"You forget—half of us has some affection for the creature as well. No, our next-to-last act as this world's final god will be to give it an independent existence." 

Simple, so simple, now that we were whole, to reform the pattern of Deis's body, to breathe the fire of true life into Ershin . . . 

— _this could get addictive . . . think of the good we could do_ — 

— _but forget not the evil, youngling, and what_ I _nearly did_ — 

— _yes, I know_ — 

— _then thou dost agree . . . ?_ — 

— _don't worry, old dragon, I want this to end just as much as you do_ — 

— _art thou prepared?_ — 

— _yes, of course_ — 

There was a tearing pain, and . . . we once more stood, my otherself and I, with our hands linked over a corpse, listening to Cray make a strangled, startled sound. 

My shoulders shook with mirth as I released Ryu's hand. 

"A world that needs not dragons . . . needs not the Yorae Dragon more than any of the others," I explained, absently feeling my side and finding only whole skin and dried blood. "But perhaps it can find a use for two men who have each taken their own paths through life." 

"Men?" Deis said dryly. 

I smiled. "Well, perhaps a little more than ordinary men, each in our different ways, but . . . not gods. This way, one of us, at least, can be free." 

"Only one?" Nina asked. "But—" 

My smile did not falter, although it became, perhaps, a little bitter. "Ryu's actions have had but little opportunity to make an impact upon the world, and so he may now do as he will, without more fear of the consequences than any mortal man might be subject to . . . but I am still the First Emperor, and the burden of the choices I made six centuries ago still rests on my shoulders. An' I leave crown and sceptre to rest on an empty chair, the West will disintegrate into warring factions again. And that, I will not permit—even less now than I would have before our joining opened mine eyes." 

Compassion . . . truth be told, it had been little more than a word to me, before. But now, with the imprint of Ryu's thoughts remaining inside me, even though we had separated . . . now I understood. I understood so much. 

"Of your courtesy, I would speak to Mami—alone," I added. 

Ryu and Elina exchanged glances. 'Twas the elder princess who finally said, "We'll wait for you inside, then." 

Even after they were gone, I found it difficult to speak. In the end, 'twas Mami, not I, who was forced to break the silence. 

"Ryong?" 

I sighed. "I was taught never to offer apologies—that 'twas not meet for a dragon, or an emperor, to admit that he was wrong—and now that I must do so . . . 'tis difficult." 

"Ya don' have t'apologize fer anything." 

"Thou art too willing to overlook my failings, beloved." The word must have sent a jolt through her, for her face acquired a sudden rosy bloom. "I _must_ apologize. For using thee. And for being a fool." 

"Ryong . . ." Suddenly, she smiled. "See? I canna find words either. It be enough, that it be over, and that y'be here, alive. I'd forgive ya anything fer that, even if ya'd hurt me." 

"Mami . . ." I took her by the shoulders and drew her towards me 'til I could embrace her. "Be my empress." I spoke the words directly into her ear . . . and was not entirely disappointed when they staggered her so that my arms must needs support her. "I will have no other . . . and while I am still not precisely a mortal man, I am no longer Endless. I will have need of an heir." 

"This be . . . I ne'er expected . . . Great Father of the Empire!" 

"Aye?" I inquired dryly, and was rewarded with a nervous giggle. 

"It be too much like a fairytale," Mami said at last. "Y'aren' supposed ta choose someone like me . . ." 

"Then who wouldst thou have me choose?" I asked. "Some noble maiden of the court, who sees me as naught but a route to power? Or perhaps thou wouldst have me tear Princess Elina from her Cray, or Nina from her Ryu, to forge an alliance 'tween East and West? I would have thee, who sees me as neither emperor nor dragon, but simply as a man. Thee, whom I love." 

"Oh, Ryong . . . " It took her a moment to recover her voice. "If y'be sure. That I won't disgrace ya." 

I sighed. "That, again. Mortal games of precedence. It seems that mine empire has become . . . unpleasantly stratified . . . in mine absence. Something will have to be done about that." I did not bother to add that, being who I was, belike I could take one of the bolt-folk to wife and have few enough difficulties with others thereby! "But if we have settled that . . . I would fain remain here with thee until the sun set—and rose, and set again—but Ryu and his friends await us within, and I have an empire to put in order . . ." 

"Not just his friends," Mami corrected. "I think ya'd find, if y'asked, that they be yer friends too." 

"Friends . . ." I contemplated that for a moment, then shook my head. "Nay, I think not . . . yet, although in time . . ." 

Time, aye. A thing that I was no longer as rich in as I had been . . . but there were other riches which I was coming to believe were more valuable. 

This time, 'twas I who reached for and held my lady's hand as we turned back toward the entrance to the stairs.


	10. Epilogue

There is no other sensation quite like that of holding one's child in one's arms for the first time. 'Tis rare that I genuinely rejoice in my mortality, but at this moment . . . 

Well. Thy mother sleeps now, littling, lulled, no doubt, by that familiar story, which I will have to tell thee again when thou art of an age to understand it . . . and there are other things I will have to tell thee that are, at present, known only to myself and to Ryu, unless he has spoken of it to those he trusts. But 'twill be necessary that thou dost come to understand, for thou art also a dragon. 

We are no longer gods. That is the choice that Ryu and I made that day, standing over the body of that fool kitsune who had thought, in his own way to surpass us. We are not gods, for this world, at present, hath no need of such . . . but we also took measures, that day, to answer such a need, should it appear. 

While Ryu and I both live, the Yorae Dragon can be revived . . . but that will not, and was not meant to, be a permanent solution. Ryu has chosen to be mortal, and while I do not age, I have bound my own life to his, and to thy mother's. An' they both die, I shall follow within the year. But should the world need a power to save it after we are both gone, a Hero shall spring from his line . . . or perhaps from mine . . . and though that Hero's powers will be far short of what we once enjoyed, they will be sufficient, we think. 

In the meanwhile, we still possess some of the powers of our battle-forms. Thus far, that has been sufficient for me to keep an empire under control . . . and 'tis my hope that thou wilt never need to assume thy dragon-form save for practice, or sport, or the sheer joy of flying. 

An' we have created a peaceful future for thee, and those like thee, naught that we suffered has been in vain.


End file.
